


Hunter's Helper

by MeriKG



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alpha Dean Winchester, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Alternate Universe, Destiel - Freeform, F/F, F/M, M/M, Omega Castiel (Supernatural), Omega Castiel/Alpha Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-05
Updated: 2020-10-24
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:20:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 43,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25083004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MeriKG/pseuds/MeriKG
Summary: Alpha Dean Winchester co-runs a large pack with his little brother Sam, and mentor Ellen Harvelle.  It's a rough life, the way of the gun and toughest-alpha-wins rules, but that works for Dean.  Their pack is healthy, successful, and safe.  Dean is about as close to content as he knows how to be.  It only takes one, tiny little fight to throw an Omega-shaped cog in the works.This story is completely AU.  If it sounds a bit in the style of Firefly, that's not an accident.  There will be smut, don't you worry, but it's gonna take me a minute to get there.
Relationships: Castiel (Supernatural)/Other(s), Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 39
Kudos: 360





	1. Good Intentions

**Author's Note:**

> I've wanted to try my hand at an SPN A/B/O story for a while, and this unholy mess of keyboard diarrhea is what emerged. (You have my apologies.)

“Yo, Dean!” 

Hearing his name hollered, Dean set down the crate he’d been helping to haul towards the outer edge of town where his little caravan was camped. He glanced over at Sam’s call, turning to follow his brother’s line of sight to the right to see what Sam was looking at.

Dean didn’t love these periodic forays into any of the distant towns surrounding his territory. Sure, when it had just been him and Sam it’d been one of favorite past-times. But things were different now. It wasn’t just him and Sam against the world anymore. He had people now; friends and family that depended on him for their safety. 

These days he didn’t see visits to the outer towns as a fun chance to indulge in his favorite vices. They were overcrowded, filthy and inherently dangerous. And in a lawless, rough and tumble town like Persephone there were too far many variables that were out of Dean’s control. 

Most of the towns had some degree of organization or guardianship. But Persephone was a whole other kettle of fish. It was a law unto itself, generally the law of survival of the fittest. And because Dean’s pack were the type of people they were, the town’s risky nature only made them want to come along all the more. 

It required quite a few folk to adequately man a supply run, not to mention the several spares that wrangled a place in the caravan for the sheer thrill of it. All told, twenty of his people were out in the world, far away from the safety of Winchester territory. 

He knew his pack was tough; hell, he’d designed the training required of every member of the Winchester Clan. Dean’s people were armed to the teeth, they were dangerous, and could damn well look after themselves. And at least half the crew included in a ride was always upper echelon toughs. No one in their right mind would fuck with a crew of Winchesters.

There were also some things that could be done in the town itself to help protect his wayward pack. Reputation was everything, and a lawless town like Persephone was a perfect place for a person or pack to make a name for themselves. Which led him back to his brother’s no so subtle hinting. Sam was staring steadily at Persephone’s pride and joy, (and primary source of income), The Fifth Ring. 

Fifth Ring was a wide, dusty mess of a fight pit, circled by a surprisingly sturdy five-foot high wooden fence. During the rainy season, it was a sticky, soggy horror show, where the blood that spilled from the combatants mixed with the waterlogged earth in a sticky pudding mess of stinking mud. 

But this was the dry season; the ground was cracked and dry, obscured by the dust clouds kicked up by the fighters as they twisted and dove about. 

The fights were completely voluntary; no holds barred, no rules. Sometimes you lived to fight another day, other times…not so much. But that was the nature of the Fifth Ring. If you couldn’t handle that particular flavor of heat, stay the hell out of the Ring. 

The betting was a different story entirely. It was incredibly well organized, scrupulously maintained, and violently regulated. The last group to run it had been notoriously shady. No one mourned when a new crew rolled into town to take their place. These new guys, Crowley’s pack, ran the bets now. Pieces of his predecessor were strung about the ring, the cracked skull and occasional femur serving as grisly decorative reminders of how he handled cheaters. Or anyone foolish enough to bet beyond their means.

Dean didn’t give a hot crap about any of that; his pack was not allowed to bet with anyone but each other. Ordinarily Crowley would object to such 'insider trading' as he called it, but the wily Alpha left their betting alone as long as the Winchesters slipped him a bottle of Hunter’s Helper on the regular. The moonshine was a secret pack recipe and the primary export for the pack. The Winchester pack did very well for themselves. 

Sam cleared his throat significantly. Right. Dean glowered at his brother, scooping up his crate and carrying it over to stand next to the oversized lug that was his little bro. 

“Now’s the time we agreed on,” Sam reminded him, not sounding particularly happy about it. 

“Yeah, yeah, fine,” Dean growled in agreement. “I’m all over it. Keep an eye on everyone.”

“Of course,” Sam promised. 

Turning from his brother’s worried gaze, Dean let the feral grin he’d been suppressing slide across his features. It had been far too long since his inner beast had been let off the chain; he desperately needed this. 

Every time they made the trek to Persephone, the pack made a point to put a fighter in the Fifth Ring. Clan Winchester was notoriously violent and ruthless, a reputation they’d worked hard to acquire and were meticulous to maintain. A token fight here and there served to remind the locals why fucking with them was a truly terrible idea. 

During their last trip to Persephone the sacrificial fighter was the only non-blood Winchester member of the Pack’s leadership triumvirate, Ellen Harvelle. The well-seasoned Alpha had volunteered to fight this time as well, but Dean had called dibbs. Primarily because it was his turn, dammit, but also because Ellen had brutally killed her last opponent. Dean had been with her for that fight; even he had to admit that it had been an unnecessary kill. Ellen was vicious, but she didn’t have the low-key rage that always simmered just below Dean’s iron control. Killing a downed opponent just wasn't in her nature. Dean suspected that the man had said something about Ellen’s daughter, but she wouldn’t admit to anything. Regardless, she didn’t need to be going back in there any time soon.

Sam rarely fought, but not because he was unwilling. He was gentle for an Alpha, sure, but still an Alpha. He may publicly detest unnecessary violence, but once he was in the thick of it, he loved the fight nearly as much as Dean. The problem arose in that opponents took one look at the massive pile of muscle and abruptly decided they had somewhere else to be. Which was exactly how Dean liked it. If he’d orchestrated a few rumors glamourizing Sam’s ‘brutal' fighting style, well, Sam didn’t need to know.

A brush of air warned him that someone was sliding up to Dean’s side, the breeze carrying the familiar scent of pack. “Want me to take this one, Brother?” Benny asked in his soft, smooth lilt, eyeing the wild crowd of onlookers. “You know I’m game.” 

Benny was one of the Winchester’s best fighters. More importantly, he was what they called a ‘quiet alpha.’ At first sniff, he smelled beta. Big and brutish, sure, but still a beta. Not that it mattered; any one of the Winchester pack’s betas would mop the floor with anyone dumb enough to go toe to toe with them. But their alphas had a hard time standing by watching them fight. 

Benny neatly bridged the gap, winning all his fights by a carefully designed narrow margin. And he lacked the alpha instinct to kill his opponents. Dean knew his friend loved it; loved the purity of a bare-knuckle brawl. So did Dean; too much, which was why he had to avoid it when he could. He was raised a Hunter Alpha, like his father. Violence was in his blood. 

“No way,” he told Benny, flashing him his trademark grin. “I got this.” If Dean didn’t let the beast out once in a while, things could go bad, fast. 

He strode towards the roaring group of spectators circling the ring, not bothering to hide his eager expression. It was a good crowd; well mixed and rowdy. Lots of visitors, too. All the better for his pack’s demonstration. 

Dean saw quite a few arms bearing the trademark brand of the Black-Eyed Pack spread out among the group. The Black-Eyes were Crowley’s old pack; no one knew why he’d left, but it was known there was no love lost between them. But now Crowley ran the betting. Then he’d taken over the market, and the auctions. To all intents and purposes he and his new crew ruled Persephone. The Blackeyed bastards wouldn’t dare step out of line as long as he was around.

More than a few folk carried the iconic blades at their left hip declaring them members of Clan Halo. Unusual, that. They were a smaller pack, but one of the fiercest, and very secretive. Halos were rovers, not prone to staying in one place for long. They were legendary fighters, feared above nearly all others. It was decidedly unusual seeing more than one or two in town at once. 

Dean scanned the area, catching sight of Persephone’s Alpha sitting on the raised dais built to oversee the fights. He was short, small for an alpha, but a vicious, conniving bugger of a man. Crowley was currently lounging atop his mammoth throne of a chair, sipping from the new bottle of Hunter’s Helper that he’d been 'gifted' when the Winchesters first rolled in. Crowley noticed him back, smiling sardonically. Dean winked back. 

Their fling had been a brief affair that ended well over a decade ago. Dean had been young and free of responsibility back then, his father still in charge of their small pack. The time may have been short, but Dean still remembered it fondly. He had no idea what Crowley thought about it or anything else, really. No one ever really knew with him. The guy took inscrutable to whole new level.

The Fifth Ring was newly vacant, the smell of old blood and sour sweat mixed in the freshly churned dirt filled his nostrils as the pit tenders nobly attempted to rake the dirt into some semblance of even ground. Their actions stirred up too many scents. Wrinkling his nose, Dean turned away. 

The next match wouldn’t be for a bit. Bored, Dean looked around, watching as Sam loomed watchfully over his packmates as they continued to carry crates out to the truck parked at the Winchester encampment on outskirts of town. His eyes gleamed, watchful expression hinting he was on the cusp of violence.

Dean grinned to himself. He had dedicated a good deal of time to teaching his oversized younger brother that particular look. He smiled wider at the fat pile of crates that had yet to be taken. They’d made a good haul this time.

A gentle breeze teased along his senses, and Dean caught Benny’s distinctive sent somewhere mixed in with the crowd, watching his back as always. Dean scanned the cue of potential fighters, the low-key buzz of adrenaline sending thrums of anticipation through his body. 

Dean hadn’t always craved violence, but as a Hunter class Alpha he had the capacity for it. His father had needed violent warriors when the pack was newly formed and growing fast. Too fast.  
The pack had needed a strong deterrent to protect their increasing numbers from raiders and thieves. Rather than subjecting Sam to that life, Dean had taken over the entirety of the job on himself. He’d grown up rough; his father's pet boogyman. As far back as he could remember, it had been his job to fight and kill anyone that threatened his people or territory. That much blood spilled so young changed a person. 

Dean was always careful to keep his darker nature firmly in check. He harbored a monster inside; he could never afford to lose control. But he was finally, finally letting his beast off the chain a little. Dean was desperately looking forward to this fight. He scanned the rail of opponents, hoping he’d find a real challenge somewhere in the mess. 

“Next up!” The crier called out. “Two items available for the winner to choose from.” 

Hmm. That was odd. Normally there were a good half dozen items available as enticement to fight, and the winner got to choose one. They must have had a busy day in the ring. Either that or these would be particularly high-ticket items. Crowley was carefully to reserve higher value prizes for the biggest fights. And now that he knew Dean would be coming in, he could expect one hell of a draw. Winchesters always did; but none more so than Dean. 

As if summoned by magic, Crowley rose from his chair atop the dais, looking towards the prize corral, as did the rest of the newly quieted crowd. 

“Friends and neighbors, let us prepare for the next duel,” he roared in his deep voice. “I’ve outdone myself, if I do say so myself. I submit as a prize to our victorious gladiator the choice of these two items,” Dean rolled his eyes at the fancy talk. Crowley always did have a flair for the dramatic.

“Firstly, three crates filled to the brim with highest grade gunpowder!” The crowd roared in approval. An excellent bid. Dean turned away to gleefully catch Sam’s eyes. His brother had gravitated close enough to see the fight ring over the heads of the crowd. He gave Dean a thumbs up; eyes alight at their future prize. Guns the Winchesters had aplenty. Keeping them loaded was the issue.

“Secondly,” Crowley called, drawing everyone’s eye to the new item. What he could possibly put up that could compete with the first prize was beyond Dean. Frankly, he wasn’t all that interested. He couldn’t think of anything his pack needed more than the gunpowder.

Crowley grinned. “For your pleasure. An unclaimed, unmated young adult omega male, traded specifically to me, and mine to offer. He’s a true beauty my fine fellows, his neck clean as a whistle and free of even the faintest teeth marks.” He waited for the murmurs of approval to die down.

“Better still, if you stand close, you can smell the faint, tantalizing, tendrils of heat. He’s mere days away from begging to present his pretty arse for the taking.” 

As he spoke, Crowley’s men neatly herded a clearly resistant figure into the prize corral amidst the hoots and hollers of the crowd. The man stumbled as he was forced into the corral, then straightened, casting a level gaze a cross the crowd. Cerulean blue eyes locked briefly with Dean’s before continuing his scan.

Mother fucker.


	2. The Fifth Ring

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean fights. He likes that kind of thing. He's not overly fond of what follows.

Chapter 2

Dean growled low, a deep, ominous sound that originated at the base of his chest and rumbled to the surface. The folk closest around him eyed him uneasily, several deciding to strategically step away from his immediate vicinity. Smart of them. Dean was in no mood for bullshit.

Human bids were rare and as illegal as hell, not that there was any kind of real law in the boondocks of Persephone. That was Crowley’s job, and apparently the limey bastard was flexible on enforcing rules he found inconvenient. Well, that was ending, right after this fight. That or Persephone found itself in acute need of new management. 

The advertised omega was unceremoniously shoved into the prize corral, the gate locked firmly behind him. The male was bound at the wrists with a long chain, the far end dragging in the dirt behind him. Dean found that interesting. It was a curious amount of precautions for a lone omega. They weren’t exactly renowned for their violent tendencies. 

Dean looked the chained omega over. He was tallish for his kind; lean, with dark black hair, a pretty face, and the bluest eyes Dean had ever seen. Eyes that currently radiated disdain as he coolly took in the eager audience. Ballsy for someone that had dozens of nearly feral alphas drooling for his ass. 

If the man was the least bit afraid, he hid it immaculately. Dean couldn’t help but admire the guy. He was completely unlike any omega he’d ever met, and Dean’s pack was near overrun with strong personalities of all flavors. The omega’s clear stubborn streak might dissuade a run of the mill alpha, or beta for that matter. But with this crowd? Not a chance. Plenty would take that display of attitude as a challenge, eager to put the omega in his place. Dean was instantly charmed.

Crowley side-eyed him, grinning that snarky gaze that never failed to make Dean want to punch a few of his teeth out. There was no chance that this was a random prize. Crowley knew very well how much the Winchester needed gunpowder. No, this was a game for his own dark amusement, not to mention profit. 

Crowley wasn’t placing his bets on a winner of the fight; the locals all knew Dean would be victorious. No, the real profit would be later, when the betting changed to which prize Dean would choose. Crowley clearly had a death wish. 

Muttering to himself, Dean hopped the sturdy fence, a cloud of dust swirling up around his boots as he landed heavily in the cracked earth of the Fifth Ring. 

“I’ll fight in the name of Clan Winchester,” he roared. “Who out there wants a piece of this?!"

Crowley raised a hand half up, grinning lasciviously. Dean rolled his eyes and flicked him off, turning back to the fence and the encroaching group of potential opponents. A number of alphas who’d been pushing their way toward the fore were now subtly melting backing into the crowd, while others stilled, shifting in place while watching their neighbors. Dean would have laughed if he wasn’t so pissed. 

“Clan Fang offers a fighter! ” A deep voice roared. 

Dean raised an eyebrow at that. Fang? Now that was an interesting development. His inner alpha rose eagerly at the thought of a worthy fighter, craving blood under his fists. Fang was a bunch of feral beasts, the lot of ‘em. Just like him. 

“Magog, take that Winchester bitch down and win us the omega! Your brother could use a mate.” Dean glanced over to the speaker, noting the trademark shoulder length salt and pepper hair. Rafe, naturally. He was the Alpha for the Fang Pack. 

The old pack Alpha wasn’t the toughest of fighters; but he was smart, and near- soulless in his decisions. He wouldn’t put up a fighter, much less one of his two sons, creatively named Gog and Magog, if he didn’t think they would win this fight. 

Dean rolled his shoulders, loosening muscles as he waited, alert and curious. Rafe’s sons were legendary but he’d never laid eyes on them himself. He’d heard the stories, of course, and if they were even half true he might actually have a real fight on his hands. A moment later the question was answered as Dean’s opponent shoved through the crowd and hopped the fence in single a leap, easily clearing it without touching. 

Rumor had it that the Rafe twins were large. Rumor was a fucking liar. 

Dean looked up, and up, and up, gazing into the other man’s hairy nostrils. Magog was a fucking giant, a mammoth of a man, his hairy chest slabbed with muscle. He dwarfed Dean’s 6’2 height by at least a foot and a half, probably more.

Dean glanced back at the prize corral. The omega was still standing straight backed and outwardly calm, though he was noticeably paler. Poor guy. Next to him, two betas wearing Crowley’s insignia hauled a fourth crate of ammo onto the enticing treasure pile. Dean glanced over at Crowley in askance.

“Just thought I’d sweeten the pot a bit,” he announced with a grin. “Seeing as how your opponent is a literal giant.”

“When I get done mopping the floor with this guy, your ass is next,” Dean warned him, not bothering to hide the sandpapery growl in his words. 

“I’m aquiver with anticipation,” Crowley replied with a wink, sipping his whiskey. 

Turning to the crowd, Crowley raised his arms for silence. “I’d say we have a worthy challenger for the legendary Dean Winchester, eh lads?” He roared into the anticipatory silence.

His audience came alive with catcalls and jeers. It had more than doubled in number, word of mouth apparently faster than wildfire. Bets were flowing hot and heavy. Whatever Crowley had paid out for his prizes, he’d easily double it. Dean hated to admire the bastard, but he had to admit, Crowley had always been a clever one. 

Dismissing Crowley for the moment, Dean turned to eye his opponent. “Weapons?” He asked, stretching his arms and giving knuckles a good crack.

“Why not?” Crowley answered with a shrug. “Might be good for a lark. One blade each, 12 inches.” The crowd cackled. A blade of that length would be little more than a toothpick against Dean’s monster of an opponent. 

Hearing his name from a familiar voice, Dean turned and strode over to where Sam had barged his way to the front at the fence. “Dean, we don’t need gun powder this badly. You can still step down.” His brother was wearing his best serious, ernest expression. Charming, but it had never had much effect on Dean. And with the promise of violence in the air, there was zero way it was going to start now. 

Dean jumped up, pulling himself half over the fence, leaned in and pulled the Pack Blade from Sam’s belt. He’d trained with it since he was a kid, the familiar heft a welcoming weight in his grip. 

“Now, now. You know Winchesters don’t run from a fight, Sammy,” he told his brother, grinning toothily. 

Sam scowled, recognizing the gleam in his older brother’s eyes. “You’re looking forward to this.” He sighed in defeat, leaning back away from the groaning planks of the five-foot fence. Benny materialized at his side, gripping his arm in support.

“Who’s watching our guys?” Dean demanded, as his two best guards were now up with him. 

Sam rolled his eyes. “Jody is back guarding the trucks. I pity anyone dumb enough to try to steal supplies from her. Not to mention Jo.” 

Jo Harvelle was tough as nails, like her mother. The plucky young beta had a gift for knives and a supreme willingness to use them.

“And the others?” Dean asked, ceding that point to Sam. The supply wagon would be fine.

Sam glared at him. “Dean, look around. Everyone in town is here to see this fight. Including our guys.”

Sam was right, of course. A quick scan and Dean caught sight of every one of his pack mates. Some looked nervous, while the ones who’d been with him a while were grinning eagerly. 

“Pre-fight bets close in 90 seconds! Remember darlings, how Uncle Crowley feels about IOU’s,” Crowley sang out over the crowd.

Dean ignored Crowley’s voice, tuning out the roaring spectators. He had pack at his back to keep an eye on them. No, Dean’s only job was to take out one opponent. He took a sniff. Magog smelled like old sweat and older rut. Faugh. Did he ever bathe?

The mammoth flexed his upper arms, grinning viciously. “I’m gonna break you in half, little man,” he growled. “Then I’m gonna rip your heart out of your rib cage and offer it to my Alpha on a fancy silver platter. Then I’m gonna rip off your head and skull fuck it till my jizz pours out of your eye sockets. We’ll take what’s left of your corpse with us for show and tell when we take over that cute little pack of yours. It’s almost a shame you won’t be there to see it.”

Dean snorted at that, tilting his head as he looked more closely at his opponent. 

“Wait. Are you wearing a loin cloth?!” He barked out a coarse laugh, glancing back at Sam and Benny. “Dude’s wearing a loin cloth!” he called out to them. Sam rolled his eyes while the crowd cackled.

Dean turned back to his opponent. The man had turned red with rage, his ears all but steaming. Well, that worked even better than he’d hoped. Magog was good and fluffed now.

Dean flipped the knife in his palm, eyes intent on his opponent. He assumed a fighter’s crouch. Waiting.

“Fighters…FIGHT!” Crowley roared. 

The giant immediately charged Dean with pure alpha adrenaline, completely lacking any hint of finesse. Dean spun, neatly dodging around the charge. He completed his spin, slamming the butt of his blade into the man’s lower back as he flew past. 

Magog roared in pain. Blunt was a truly underestimated weapon attack, Dean had noted before. His blade was too short for most strikes; he’d need a good opening to make it useful. That or slowly bleed the giant out; but that was a risky strategy. Dean would not be able to survive more than a few blows from someone with that much raw power.

Magog spun; throwing a beast of a haymaker that would have been all she wrote for him had it landed. But Dean swiveled to the side, smoothly gliding around the massive fist. He landed a fierce uppercut, again using the hilt of the blade. It didn’t do much more than make Magog hiss. 

The mammoth stood at full height and kicked out, surprisingly fast for such a large man. The kick landed, nailing Dean right in the abdomen. He tensed his abs and loosened his body, allowing the momentum to carry him backwards into the air, saving his ribs from cracking but sending him rolling across the dirt. His blade went flying from his hand and out of reach. Dean cursed; rookie mistake. If his father were still alive he’d beat his ass for that one.

Dean rolled to his feet, arms up defensively as the giant brought his own blade down at him. Dean caught Magog's blade hand with his left, then quickly used his right hand to punch Magog’s elbow joint, making him drop the weapon. Now they were both disarmed. His inner Alpha howled in approval, demanding bloodshed. Dean was happy to oblige. The other man had threatened his pack; he would die for it. 

Before Magog could recover Dean kicked out, nailing the giant in the knee joint, feeling it shatter beneath his boot. Roaring in pain, the giant fell to his knees. Dean spun around to his opponent’s back, clamping the giant in a headlock and choking with all his strength. The giant rose to his feet, taking Dean up with him, and in an astonishing display of brute strength, flipped the 200 pounds of Winchester over his shoulder to the ground. The watching crowd howled in approval at the power move. 

Something in Dean's shoulder crunched as he landed on it with his full weight. Ignoring the surge of pain, he rolled back to his feet, neatly avoiding a lethal stomp from his opponent. Didn’t the guy realize his knee was toast? Stupid knot-head fuck of an alpha.

Magog charged again, narrowly missing as Dean gracefully spun and ducked away. The force of the charge, coupled with the damaged knee, sent the giant sliding to the ground on his stomach. He pounded the ground in rage, rising up to his feet. 

Magog pulled himself upright, turning around just in time to see the blade Dean had scooped from the ground flying at his face. Before the giant of a man could react, Dean struck, the blade neatly separating the giant’s head from his shoulders, sending it rolling across the dirt ring. 

Dean rose from his crouch, to the deafening sound of the crowd’s screams of rage and approval. He grinned wildly at his pack mates, blood spattered across his face and chest in a maudlin spray of sticky red freckles. “That hit the spot.” 

Benny rolled his eyes. “Whatever, Spartacus. Just get us our damned ammo, would ya?” 

Sam glanced over at his pack mate. Frowning at Benny, he turned back and reached out to place a hand on his brother’s arm. “Dean,” he said, sinking an entire conversation into the one word. 

Dean scowled at his brother, reluctantly nodding in agreement. “Yeah, yeah. I know.”

“It appears we have a winner,” Crowley called out. He gestured with both arms, the crowd obediently quieting at the gesture. “Bonus bets close in one minute. Dean, my darling, you have two minutes to claim your hard-won prize. Choose wisely.” It was a farce, of course. Crowley knew exactly what Dean would choose.

Whispers filled the area, murmurs as final bets were placed. 

Dean gave one last, longing look at the four glorious boxes of gunpowder. Life just wasn’t fair. “I’ll take the omega,” he announced with a sigh. 

Groans filled the ring at his pronouncement. “You heard the man,” Crowley announced. “My lads will be coming along directly to collect any wagers due me.” 

Dean scowled at the Brit, a promise of future pain in his gaze. 

“Well, that was fun,” he announced as leapt up and hopped the fence to join Benny and Sam. "You two finish up with our supplies and I’ll go collect our new pack mate and meet you back at the trucks.”

“Lady Moon, Dean. That was a particular brand of stupid,” Benny bemoaned dramatically. “We need another defenseless omega to feed like a hole in the head. We could really have used that powder.”

Sam smacked him in the shoulder. “Shut it. You know what would have happened if we let the Fangs get him. He’s safer with us. I’m proud of you, Dean.” 

“Yeah, thanks Gandhi,” Dean growled in faked annoyance, even as something in him warmed. 

In many ways, Sam was the conscious he’d had stamped out of him from growing up in a life of death and bloodshed. It felt good to know the little brother he’d raised from a pup could still think well of him.

Dean hopped the fence, ignoring the way his shoulder screamed and his ribs burned. Maybe he’d managed to crack one or two, after all. No matter, a good taping up and he’d be golden. 

He wandered over to the prize corral amid myriad shoulder claps of celebration that made him ache. Hiding the pain from the good-natured congratulations came easily, the result of long practice. 

“Here ya go,” Crowley’s man, well, woman in this case, said cheerfully, handing the end of the chain over to him. “This one is all yours. You made our boss a tidy sum, Winchester. I’ve been instructed to let you take one of the crates of gunpowder with you, a gift to show our boss’ good will.” 

Dean bit out a loud curse, taking the end of the chain from the beta female. Well, fuck. Either he gave Crowley the ass kicking he so richly deserved, or he accepted the bribe instead and took the powder. Crowley was too damn smart for his own good. Sometimes being the responsible leader sucked.

“Tell Crowley that I graciously accept his gift and I look forward to catching up with him next time we return to Persephone,” he growled sourly. He turned back to where Crowley reclined on his dais. Crowley grinned, toasting him with his glass. 

Rolling his eyes, Dean turned to speak with the omega. The poor guy was probably terrified. 

“Hey, what’s your name?” he asked the dark haired beauty. The man really was striking.

The omega stepped up to him, right into his personal space, the chain binding his wrists clinking with his motions. “None of your business,” the omega growled at him. 

Dean blinked, taken aback. The omega had actually growled! At an alpha. And not just any alpha, one riding a killing high who had literally bled for the damn guy not minutes before.

Dean glared at him. “No need to be rude. It was just a simple question.”

“Yes,” the omega replied bitterly. “Simple. I’m going to make it even simpler. Yes, despite my attitude I’m really an omega. Yes, I’ll be going into heat shortly. If you so much as think about sticking your knot in me, I’ll cut your alpha testicles off and feed them to you.” 

Well then. 

Next to them, the brunette female of Crowley’s crew laughed. “Now you know why the boss was so willing to give him up. That one just isn’t right in the head. Best of luck, Winchester.”

Dean growled at her. She winked back, smiling enticingly. Her smell said she was totally interested in a romp if he was. Reluctantly, Dean abandoned the chance of a good after-fight lay. He had an encampment full of twitchy pack mates and an abrasive omega to see to. 

Dean turned and hefted his box of gunpowder. It wasn’t nearly as satisfying as sinking his teeth into Crowley’s jugular, but at least it’d make Benny more agreeable. 

“Let’s go,” he told the as yet unnamed omega shortly, turning and walking in the direction of the Winchester encampment. His shoulder screamed at him from carrying the crate, but he’d be damned if he asked the rude bastard at his side for any favors.

The chain clinked annoyingly between them as they walked. Dean ignored it for the moment. He’d need to send someone to run back to Crowley to acquire the keys at some point, but it’d keep for now. He just had to get back to his pack before the damaged arm gave out.

“I meant every word,” the omega told him as they walked. “If you want to mate me you’ll have to force me. And I will fight with everything I have.”

And now the man had just accused him of being a rapist. Dean hadn’t done a damn thing to the omega. Not even a little harmless scenting, though it was more than clear from the luscious scent wafting off him that the man was close to his heat. 

Dean slammed the crate onto the ground. His arm throbbed like an unholy bitch, his ribs burned with every breath, and he was well past done with this shit. 

“Enough, omega, enough! Get over here.”

Apparently he’d managed to do the impossible and actually scare the man. Real fear filled the omega’s eyes, though he stayed firmly upright, levelly meeting Dean’s gaze. Swallowing, he obediently approached. 

Dean fished his set of lock picks out of a pocket. He reached for the omega’s wrists and began picking the restraint’s lock. It was trickier doing it with his off hand, but he'd manage. 

“I haven’t done a damn thing wrong by you,” Dean snarled as he worked. “What I did do was fight and bleed for you, potentially risking my entire damn pack by choosing to save your ass over ammo that could save their lives. So far in thanks for that, you’ve threatened me, accused me of forcing myself on you, and said more than a few unkind words about my character.” 

With a click, the first wrist cuff flipped open. Dean took the omega’s other wrist in hand and began to work on it. 

“Now, in about a minute, I’ll have this open. And you will be free. Do whatever the fuck you want. If you want a place to live, my pack will take you in. We have a thriving territory a few days out and have more than enough room for you. There are plenty of alphas and more than a few betas back home willing and capable of helping you through your heat. Now generally, I’m on that list, but I am about fucking done with you, no matter how gorgeous you are. So, if you want to join my pack, follow me. If not, go. Be free. Find your damn bliss or whatever.”

Having vented all his contained anger, and really, he was still trying to rein in the blood-high from the fight, Dean turned his back on the stunned omega and lifted his box again, choking back a grunt as his shoulder popped. 

Dean strode away from the other man back towards his people. A moment later, he heard sounds behind him; apparently the male was coming with after all. Goodie. They walked together in silence.

They were at the outskirts of town when a petite female came flying at them. “Dean! I heard you fought a monster in the Ring! Are you okay?” 

Dean dropped the crate in time to catch the slight blonde that threw herself at him, careful to tug her into a hug with his good arm. “Hey, Jo. Yes, I fought. Yes, I’m fine. Everything is okay.” The slim, bright-eyed beta openly scented him, completely unconcerned by her proximity to a blood-high, blood-drenched alpha. 

“Dean, you’re hurt. What’s wrong with your shoulder?”

Dean grunted. “Nothing major, Jo. Just dislocated. Sam will have it fixed up in no time.” 

“And you’re carrying a heavy crate?” She demanded. The blonde turned her glare to the new omega. “He was hurt saving you. The least you could have done was carry the damn box.” 

Snorting, she hefted the case of gunpowder. A faint whiff of shame emanated from the man beside them, though he remained silent. Before Dean could object, Jo had shifted the crate into a forearm hold, easily carting the box back in the direction of their camp.

Benny came trotting out to meet them in Jo’s wake. “This is what all the fuss was about?” He asked in his smooth Cajun drawl, eyeing Dean's companion, clearly unimpressed. 

“At least you got one crate of the good stuff,” he added, watching as Jo flounced off toward the loading truck with their prize.

Sam joined them a moment later, taking in his brother’s state with an assessing glance before turning to the new omega. 

“Hey,” he said politely. “I’m Sam Winchester; one of the three leaders of Clan Winchester. Our third, Ellen Harvelle is back at home guarding the pack territory. That’s my big brother Dean pretending he’s too tough to feel pain. What’s your name?”

“Yeah, good luck with that,” Dean muttered, striding away towards his and Sam’s shared tent and the nearest bottle of Hunter’s Helper. He wanted a solid head start on that bottle before getting his arm popped back into place. 

The omega swallowed, looking up at the tall Alpha. When it was clear the newcomer had no intention of answering, Sam smiled gently a placed an easing touch on the man’s arm. 

“It’s okay,” Sam said, somehow managing to be placating without condescending. “You don’t need to answer. You have all the time in the world to decide that it's safe to trust us. But right now I have to go shove my idiot brother’s shoulder back into its socket. The rest of camp is straight ahead. Go on, they know you’re coming.”

With a parting smile, Sam turned and strode purposefully up the hill in the direction his brother had gone.

Castiel watched the large alpha leave. He took one lingering glance back in the direction of Persephone, where at least he was in familiar territory and knew what to expect. Of course, the expected was also terrible. This new future was unknown. He cast a rueful look up at at the distant tent, where he could scent some residual and unfortunately enticing traces of Dean's lingering battle pheremones. Well, at least the future would be interesting. Castiel squared his shoulders and started down the path that led to the Winchester Pack encampment. 

_______________________________


	3. Camp Winchester and the Slutty Moonlight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel gets his first clue of what it is to be a Winchester. A wild Jo makes another appearance. Dean pulls a Dean, Sam is Sam, and merrily we move along.
> 
> *This story changes POV's so fast you may get whiplash. Apologies.

Dean sat despondently on his bedroll, gazing longingly into the rich amber liquid teasing him through the hazy glass of the whiskey bottle. The nearly full bottle. His newly relocated shoulder throbbed like a son of a bitch, and his bruised ribs were quick to sing out their own grievances with every shallow inhalation.

He sighed, setting the bottle aside. He’d like nothing better than to drown his follies in the ruddy depths of home-brewed happiness. Had he been safely back in home territory among his people he’d be halfway to Blitzville by now. Unfortunately, he didn’t have that luxury. Not when he had so many packmates in unfriendly territory. He’d be no good to them three sheets to the wind. 

Dean glanced over to the other side of the shared tent where Sam slept, the oversized lump of brother snoring out a blissfully pain-free serenade. Yet another reason Sam was clearly the more intelligent Winchester; he didn’t instigate life and death fights with stupid, knothead behemoths. Dean’s shoulder throbbed in sage agreement. 

Dean considered his options. One: he could settle down and try to get some rest; or B) he could fuck with his brother’s belongings. While the latter wouldn’t do him as much good as sleep, it was a surefire guarantee of future entertainment during the trip home. 

He’d just decided which of his brother’s things he should screw with first when his instincts whispered a soft warning to his hindbrain. Something was off. Dean stilled, quieting his breathing and tuning out his aches and pains, devoting all his senses to the soft sounds of the night. 

Rising silently, he untied the tent flap and leaned out. He took a deep breath, scenting the wind for a hint of what had set off his subconscious alerts. 

Gotcha. 

Dean glanced back at the tent behind him at the faint sound of rustling fabric. Sam rose to his feet, a sawed off shotgun in his grip. Dean raised a hand, signaling his brother to stand down. 

“Easy,” he murmured. “It’s all good.” 

Dean stepped fully out of the tent, waiting patiently as Option Three trotted in their direction along the dark road. 

Dean grinned as the lone figure stealthily approached. Looks like Sam’s belongings were safe. Tonight, anyway. Definite rain check on that, though. Dean had plans for his brother’s toothbrush. 

“Come on out,” Dean called into the night. “You’ve been made.” 

The figure straightened and strode into the middle of the road, her dark silhouette distinctive against the bright light of the waxing gibbous moon. And what a silhouette it was. 

Sam peered over Dean’s shoulder and took a deep breath, sampling the air. A moment later he chuffed softly in annoyed recognition, shoulders settling as he relaxed.

“Really?” He demanded, scowling down at his older brother. 

Dean grinned back. “You ever heard the phrase ‘to the victor goes the spoils,’ Sammy? Well, as of this afternoon I’m the victor. And that, right down there, that is the spoils.”

Flashing a slightly feral smile at his annoyed younger sibling, Dean ducked back into the tent long enough to grab the bottle of ‘shine. “Keep an eye on things while I’m out, yeah?”

Sam snorted; his slut of a brother was unbelievable. “Of course. And if your ass isn’t back by dawn we’re leaving without you.”

Dean rolled his eyes. As if he’d stray from the pack for that long. “As I recall, there’s a nice, soft field of clover to the northeast a bit. I’ll be back in an hour.” 

Dean paused, taking in the exquisite form of the petite Beta guard that had been so into him back at the Fifth Ring. She was still posing in the middle of the rode, using the moonlight to artfully frame her deliciously curvy assets.

“Maybe two hours.” 

Ignoring Sam’s snort of disgust, Dean trotted out to join the young lady. 

He nodded to the pack sentry who’d risen from her crouched place to watch him stride down to the road. At Dean’s casual wave, she sent a dirty gesture his way before melting back into the brush.  
\-----------

Castiel huddled in a quiet spot along the log ring that circled the small fire, grateful for the warmth provided by the sparking flames. The faint hiss and pop of damp wood amidst the burning branches provided a soothing background to the night. The sun had bid its evening farewell some time ago, taking the day’s scorching heat with it and leaving a dry, icy chill in its wake. 

Initially, Castiel had parted ways with Sam Winchester with more than a few misgivings. In his experience, walking alone into the heart of a pack would not go well. He’d spent the short walk trying to work out how to efficiently state his case before he was impaled. As it happened, he’d worried needlessly.

Castiel had barely set foot into the Winchester encampment before being accosted by a fiercely kind, shorthaired lady alpha who’d been left in charge of the camp while the trading crew was away. She’d introduced herself as Jody, not the least put out when Castiel had clung to his stoic silence. 

The other members were nearly as welcoming, nosily curious about ‘that odd omega Dean had rescued’, but were quick to return to their own business at Jody’s warning growls. Protective in the way of truly good alphas, she’d sensed his discomfort and settled him in a corner by the fire where he could watch the pack move about, the placement granting him privacy without feeling excluded. 

Castiel’s belly groaned at him, stuffed near to bursting with the double helping of thick potato-venison stew and hearty bread he’d been near force-fed by the cheerful young omega in charge of cooking. He’d accepted the food absently, shocked that an omega had been allowed out of pack lands at all, much less near such a risky town. Then he’d gotten a deep scent from spicy meat stew and dismissed the man from his thoughts.

Castiel couldn’t remember the last time he’d not felt hunger, much less been truly full. One thing he could say about the Winchester pack, they were enthusiastic in their welcome of new members, and generous in their care. 

Most of them, anyway.

He’d been careful to keep a wary eye on Benny; well aware the ornery beta blamed him for costing the pack the valuable crates of gunpowder. Castiel was far from helpless, but the beta was a big man and clearly well liked. Castiel didn’t want to start any fights so soon if he could help it. 

Jo, the petite blonde he’d met when he first arrived with the Alpha siblings, wandered past, chatting amicably with a pack sentry. Castiel dropped his gaze. Seeing her reminded him of his earlier behaviour around his new Alpha. Not only had had he been dangerously brash and assumptive, he’d been rude. 

Not that Castiel’s opinion was exactly unfounded. A mere hour before he’d stood alone, chained in a pen and forced to watch while a mass of salacious alphas had literally fought for the right to own him. His first experience with Dean Winchester hadn’t exactly started off in a positive light. 

But still. Had Castiel been paying attention he’d have noticed that the Alpha had attained injuries; and by his very nature the man would be compelled to hide any damage attained during the fight. Jo had been right. Would it really have killed him to carry the stupid box? 

A shadow moved to his right, then she was settling down on the log next to him. 

“Jo,” Castiel acknowledged cautiously.

“Mystery guy,” she replied, smiling in amusement. She reached over, slowing her movements when Castiel drew away. “Easy. I just have a blanket for you.”

Castiel stilled, allowing her to wrap him in a heavy patchwork quilt.

“We’re going to let the fire die out since we leave at first light. You’ll get a chill if you don’t wrap up. There are spare bedrolls over by the supplies if you want one.”

“Thank you,” Castiel replied cautiously. 

She grinned. “So, you can speak.”

Castiel’s telling silence made her giggle. They sat in silence for a short while, watching the fire pop and spark.

“So, new guy. You got a weapon on you?” Jo asked a bit later.

Stunned by her bluntness, and not sure what the right answer was, Castiel didn’t answer.

She raised an eyebrow. “Back to the silent treatment, already? Relax. I’m in charge of armaments. That’s why I’m asking. If you don’t have a weapon, you need one. It’s rough out here for anybody, and downright stupid for an omega alone. Especially one kicking out heat pheromones the way you are.” 

Jo shifted, and suddenly a knife appeared in her hand, the metal gleaming in the flickering firelight. It was a quality weapon, and well tended. Castiel knew his way around a blade, and recognized the sturdy knife as the gift it was.

“Thank you,” he replied honestly. “But I already have a blade.” 

Jo nodded, making the knife disappear from wherever she’d pulled it. Castiel blinked at her skill. She was very fast. 

“That’s good. We have classes back home if you want training. Or just want someone to spar with.” 

Castiel nodded silently, dubious that they’d actually allow an omega into a fighting class. 

Jo stood, giving his shoulder a gentle punch. “Good night, then. It’s okay to sleep. The big guys are camped out by the main road, so nothing’s gonna make it to us alive from the south. And we have sentries posted at each corner of the camp. We wake early and move fast, so try to rest.”

Castiel nodded in agreement.

“Jo,” Castiel said as she turned to leave. 

She paused mid rise, turning back around to face him. “Yeah?”

“Castiel. My name. It’s Castiel.”

She grinned, her smile lighting up an already lovely face. “Odd name. Welcome to the Winchester Pack, Castiel.” 

Castiel nodded in acknowledgement, watching her glide smoothly into the night. 

He settled down on the ground with his back to the log, securely tucking himself into the folds of the thick blanket. His hidden knife was a reassuring weight in his forearm sheath. 

It wasn’t that Castiel didn’t believe Jo; he actually did. Nonetheless, he had no intention of sleeping, not in a camp full of unknowns. Still, he was extremely exhausted, and it had been some time since he’d had a restful night sleep. Or perhaps it was as simple as his subconscious recognizing something he didn’t. That he was safe. 

Shortly after he’d gotten comfortable, Castiel’s eyes slid shut and he drifted off to a deep sleep.  
\----------------------

Sam sat in front of the tent, content to simply be under the moonlight. He’d considered going back to sleep, but decided against it. It would be different if Dean was around; his brother’s instincts were so sharp a mouse couldn’t get through without him noticing. But since his stupid older sibling was off getting his slut on, Sam needed to stay alert.

Sam didn’t have to wait long. Shortly after the promised two-hour mark, his senses gently whispered the arrival of a familiar presence. The mild breeze brought him the faint, watered down scent of sweaty, spent alpha male moments before Dean appeared over the hill. Sam’s brother was soaked to the skin and looked incredibly pleased with himself. 

“Feel better now?” Sam asked dryly. 

Dean grinned a toothy, smug smile. “Oh yeah. I even washed up in the stream on my way back. ‘Cause I’m considerate that way.” 

Sam rolled his eyes. “Next time stay under longer.” 

Dean flipped him an appropriately vulgar hand gesture before heading towards camp. Sam grinned fondly at his brother’s back, watching Dean trot down the hill, presumably to hang his soaked clothes next to the lingering flames of the fire pit. 

Dean was fierce as a rabid bear once he really let loose, and scarily good with a blade. But Sam would be lying if he said he hadn’t been worried during the Pit fight. That Fang fighter had been almost too large to be real. But Dean seemed no worse for wear; his injuries manageable, and the blood-crazed Hunter that always resided in the back of his mind neatly tucked away. 

Regardless of what Sam may say aloud, it was good to see his brother at his usual tricks. Sam ducked back inside and curled up in his bedroll. Dawn was fast approaching and he wanted go get at least a few hours of quality shut-eye.  
\----------------------

Castiel’s eyes flew open, his nose filled with the scent of alpha. It wasn’t rut; the odor was nothing so pungent or dangerous. But it was definitely sexual in nature. 

Time and experience had taught him to freeze when first scenting a threat. Stay still, analyze, and wait. And be ready to free his blade.

He watched as a dark figure padded boldly to the fire with silent strides. Impressive that such a large man could move so quietly. The lack of acute violence in the well-guarded camp suggested this man was pack. Castiel risked a deep, analytical breath.

Dean.

The alpha was naked from the waist up, his wet skin gleaming in the soft moonlight. The beams seemed drawn to him, caressing each graceful curve of hard muscle. The fading firelight cast a flickering dance of shadows against his moon-pale skin. 

Stepping nimbly over the sitting logs, Dean began hanging wet clothes along the laundry pegs set out for that specific reason. He reeked of alpha male, sweat, and sex. And something else, a distinctly feminine scent. Despite Dean’s obvious soaking, he still smelled heavily of she-beta. Clearly she had enjoyed herself; Dean was nearly saturated with her marking scent. It was very unlikely that had been inadvertent on the woman’s part. 

This was a good thing. Any residual aggressive dominant pheromones that might have been riding the Alpha following his fight should now be safely out of his system, exhausted in some girl’s welcoming embrace. Castiel should have been relieved. 

But he wasn’t. Instead, he was irritated. In fact, Castiel had to actively suppress the desire to get up and rub himself over the attractive male’s naked body, coating his own marking scent over the interloper’s. 

It had to be his upcoming heat; unwanted instincts driving him to actions he’d otherwise never even consider. The last thing he needed was a stupid, demanding Alpha thinking he had some claim over him. 

Even if that Alpha was incredibly handsome, his silky skin and taut muscle perfectly accentuated by the play of light and shadow as he carefully stripped out of the last of his wet clothes with one arm. Then his pants were gone and Dean was standing casually naked as he set out his soaked pants to dry. 

Sweet Mother Moon, he smelled delicious. Like new leather and fresh tobacco, with just a hint of honeysuckle. Castiel couldn’t help but take another intense inhalation, drawing that luscious scent in and holding it close.

Dean didn’t look up from his task, but he chuckled, a deep masculine sound of satisfaction. 

Castiel cursed under his breath. He’d been caught. Not that it had been all that difficult. Now that he thought to check, he couldn’t help but notice he was radiating omega pheromones. His body practically screamed ‘breed me, now!’

Castiel went very still, wary of how the Alpha would interpret the scent. He straightened his right arm, preparing to loose his blade from its sheath. 

Castiel wouldn’t blame the Alpha for making a move, not with the way he was stinking up the place, but he would take actions to dissuade him. Castiel was a being of more than simple instinct, and his mind was not on board with his body’s clear message of ‘Oh, hell yes’.

Dean went still, dark eyes running down the length of Castiel’s curled body. After a moment, he turned and silently padded back up toward his tent, the silvery light unfairly bright as it glistened teasing across what had to be a supernaturally perfect set of gluteal muscles. 

Castiel stared at that luscious piece of poetry in motion; physically incapable of averting his gaze. No one had an ass like that. It simply wasn’t feasible. It also bore a distinct set of bite marks at the lower left cheek, right where ass curved to meet muscular thigh. 

And then Dean was gone. Just like that. Without so much as a word. Castiel’s relief instantly gave way to personal affront. Was he not worth even a cursory scenting? The Alpha hadn’t given a single sniff back, much less responded to Castiel radiating desire at him. Castiel was an excellent specimen of an omega, thank you very much. And he was nearly in heat, damn it! He deserved a little interest.

Castiel grumbled to himself as he curled back up in his blanket. He was well aware that he wasn’t being remotely rational. Dean had smelled him, read his clearly defensive body language, and responded appropriately to the very obvious ‘go away’ message. 

Walking away couldn’t have been easy for such an aggressive dominant. Fighting his natural alpha drive that way had to have been difficult. Most wouldn’t bother. Dean’s behaviour was the very embodiment of an excellent, extremely controlled Alpha. Which perversely made Castiel want him even more. Stupid omega hormones. 

Stupid heat. 

\--------------------------------------

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually have three terribly long chapters just chockabock full of typos completely written out, including the ending. Unfortunately they don't follow any kind of linear structure, so that needs to happen first.


	4. On the Road Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel gets a feel for his new packmates as they journey homeward. Dean is crabbby, Sam is Sam. And my favorite Redhead joins the party. This chapter is a little dry, I won't lie. But we have to get from point A to B.

Castiel woke to soft murmurs and the thrum of activity around him as the Winchester Pack rose with the chilly dawn. Sleepy faces muttered at one another, frequently punctuated with variously pitched growls, clutching dented tins of steaming brew as they went about their assigned tasks. 

A young man smiled apologetically at Castiel as he stepped around him, raking the ash pit from the fire into a smooth area, smothering any residual glowing sparks. 

Jody appeared at Castiel’s side a short while later, as red-eyed as the others but wearing a sleepy smile. She pressed a bar of grain and dried fruit bits that smelled strongly of honey into his hand, along with a tin cup of what his nose told him was extremely strong coffee.

“Here, sweetheart. Coffee is from last night, but the heating urns kept it plenty warm. Normally we’d have at least some kind of hot breakfast but certain folk made it clear we were to head out ASAP.“ She glanced meaningfully over her shoulder. 

Dean was standing in the center of the camp, an oversized coffee cup clutched in his good hand, eyes alert as he monitored the activity around him. Sam was at his side, the two speaking softly. Both were heavily armed. Dean wore the same knife he’d used back at the Pit tucked neatly into a belt sheath, and a gleaming silver gun with a white handle strapped into a thigh holster. Sam wore a sawed off shotgun slung securely over his back. 

Sam was saying something involving a fair amount of gesturing and body language. Castiel couldn’t quite make out the words, but whatever it was, Dean was not a fan. Sam didn’t back down from a glare fierce enough that the packmates around deviated from their course to give the Alphas a wide berth. Instead, his gaze dipped briefly to his brother’s right shoulder before he started back up again. 

Dean looked annoyed, but finally nodded along with whatever his brother was telling him. Apparently satisfied, Sam strode off in the direction of the two covered trucks, speaking softly with the crew while he checked the firmly latched crates.

Dean turned his gaze their direction, spotting Jody and Castiel. He nodded in greeting before gesturing a ‘come hither’ at the alpha. Jody gave Castiel’s shoulder a light squeeze.

“It looks like I’m needed. You good?”

Castiel nodded. “I’m fine. Thank you. Is there anything I can do to assist? I can be helpful.”

Jody shook her head. “Nah. I appreciate the offer, but everyone here has specific jobs. We’re a pretty well oiled machine. Best to leave everyone to do their thing. Next time.”

Jody joined the brothers, and Castiel realized she wore a shoulder holster as well as what appeared to be a sheathed bowie knife clipped to her belt. She nodded at whatever Dean said before striding to one of the trucks and nimbly crawling atop the covered crates and settling in. Someone handed a shotgun up to her once she was situated. 

Castiel sat back and watched the decamping process. Despite the occasional squalls from people woken too damn early, they worked well together. He approved of the efficiency. 

Sipping his coffee, he paid close attention, attaching the few names he knew to faces. Benny walked past with a heavy-looking crate slung over one shoulder. He spared Castiel a glare as he passed. Castiel could have behaved and simply dropped his gaze. But he didn’t, choosing instead to glare evenly back. 

To his surprise, Benny didn’t come over to put him in his place. Instead, the large male continued on with his task. Castiel almost swore he saw a hint of a smile on the man’s face. 

A couple of betas ran into each other, both carrying hefty armfuls of supplies. Snarling in irritation, one dumped his stack of bedrolls and turned on the other, fists up. Dean appeared from nowhere, barking something at the pair. Both dropped their eyes, muttered something to the ground, and hastily returned to their jobs. 

The omega who’d been in charge of dinner appeared at Dean’s side, subtly refilling the grouchy Alpha’s oversized cup with coffee while Dean answered a steady flow of questions directed at him.

Castiel couldn’t help but admire this whole set up. And while he hated to admit it, such smooth organization tended to be a ‘from the top’ kind of thing. A pack took their cues from the leader. As much as Castiel distrusted the notion, the hyper vicious beast that had won him in a ringside death match may actually be a good man. More than that: a good Alpha.  
\------------------

Dean was not in a good mood. It was too fucking early, yesterday’s coffee tasted like deep fried, half-ground rat’s ass, and he was stupidly sore. The previous evening’s midnight romp in the clover may have been good for him in all kinds of ways, but it sure did a number on his injuries. 

But Dean had a reputation to maintain; giving that lovely young lady anything but his absolute best was unacceptable. Currently, his dick and his ribs were engaged in a heated argument over who was ultimately right in that decision. Ow.

Fortunately, they were nearly done and inside an hour, Persephone would be a pile of stinking dust in their review mirror. Dean glanced over to where Jody and their new omega sat chatting. Jo said he’d finally coughed up a name. 

Castiel. 

Okay, sure it was a little weird, but no stranger than anything else about the freakish omega. It wasn’t that Castiel was tough that made him odd; they had badass omegas aplenty back home, but none so overtly aggressive. Oh well: strange and unique was sort of a Winchester trademark. Castiel would fit right in.

The omega looked good. Rested and well fed. He was still far too thin, but that would be remedied soon enough. No one went hungry in the Winchester pack. And once they got back, Dean would make sure someone made sure he minded his health. Omegas had a tendency to protect others to their own neglect. 

But holy hell the man smelled good. Dean had never scented anyone like him. Castiel smelled like baked apples and cinnamon, with a sharp bite of winter storm. That luscious scent was everything that was good and right in the world, and Dean wanted nothing more than to take the omega in his arms and roll around with him until that unique scent saturated him to the skin. 

Well, having the man bouncing enthusiastically on his cock wouldn’t exactly be terrible, either, but Dean had no delusions. The omega’s scent may scream that he was just begging for a good knotting, but the man himself didn’t want anything to do with him. The way that Castiel had tensed up at his presence by the fire last night was proof of that. In fact, that whole experience had set Dean’s teeth on edge. Like the omega expected to be assaulted. 

Dean was no dumb knothead who didn’t understand the meaning of ‘no’. But he knew how the world worked, and it was seldom in an omega’s favor. Still, the idea that Castiel thought Dean would be like that, well, it took the wind right out of his alpha sails. Dean never went where he wasn’t expressively, enthusiastically wanted. Fundamental ethics aside, his ego would never allow it. 

Life was immensely, impressively unfair. So what the hell else was new? Sensing eyes on him, Dean turned. Their new omega was watching warily. Dean nodded to the man, publicly acknowledging his presence among the pack. 

Dean wanted to give the omega his desired space. But he also had to make it clear the he was welcome, both for Castiel himself and as an example to the rest of the pack. Sooner or later his heat would demand a response, whether Castiel liked it or not, and since he was clearly unwelcome, Dean needed to make sure the path was clear for others who may be more suitable to the omega’s tastes. And didn’t that thought just suck.

On top of all that delightful slice of pie, Sam had claimed Dean’s place as the rear guard for their caravan, with Jody and Jo riding tandem as front guard. As if one little injured wing and a few cracked ribs would keep Dean from fighting off anything and everything that could hurt his people. 

Dean was their best defender; he’d been doing it since he was a pup. Beating up large, dangerous things to a bloody mess of meat and bones had always been his primary task in the pack. It was his job to keep everyone safe. 

Sam was just so annoyingly good at being convincing. And he’d made a fair point. Just because Dean ‘could’ didn’t mean he necessarily ‘should’, and they’d brought plenty of well-trained fighters for a reason…blah blah blah. Fine, whatever. Sam could take over the damn rear guard. Dean and Benny would have a wonderful time together riding side-bitch. 

He downed the rest of his shitty coffee, catching a whiff of new aggression somewhere off to his left. Fucking hell, couldn’t they get through a single morning without someone starting some shit? He was so not in the mood. 

He pretended not to notice when Garth snuck in to refill his coffee. The surprisingly resilient omega liked to think he was sneaky, and there was no point growling at him. He was somehow completely immune to Dean’s attitude. And frankly, after yet another night without sleep, Dean needed the caffeine. 

Dean strode in the direction of the budding argument. So help him, they were gonna have a smooth de-camp or someone was getting a beat down. 

He steadfastly ignored the tantalizing waft of Castiel’s scent curling around him as he walked brusquely away. 

Fuck. 

\--------------------

Castiel quickly developed a new appreciation for the Winchester’s ‘get the hell out at the first hint of dawn’ approach to travel. By the time the sun had reached its zenith, the heat had built up to miserable temperatures. 

Their caravan was fairly small. It included two large older trucks, their canvas-covered beds built to hold large amounts of cargo, two rusty open framed jeeps, one truly antiquated looking truck with an extended cab, and a number of bitsa motorcycles- vehicles coggled together with a bits a this and a bitsa that.

While the vehicles had all clearly seen better days, their chipped, faded paint slowly losing the battle with the elements, each roared to life readily, the engines purring smoothly. 

A set of guards rode atop each of the covered cargo vehicles, both heavily armed and wary-eyed. Jody and Jo had parked out on top of the lead truck. Sam was placed at the back of the rear vehicle, one of the jeeps, assuming the position of rear guard. 

Dean took a place at the driver’s seat of the other jeep, his glare promising pain to anyone who was dumb enough to call him on it. Wisely, no one did. Benny slid into the passenger side with a grin at the salty Alpha. Road food and residual camping gear, as well as a number of loose weapons were hastily relocated to the jeep’s cab, the crew smoothly adjusting to the change in plans. 

The motorcycles rumbled to life, each bike manned by a driver and an armed rear guard. The bikes rolled out, interposing themselves alongside and in between the caravan. 

Castiel joined half a dozen other people in the open-backed truck, already anticipating a miserable ride. 

“Ready?” One of his new packmates, the omega Garth, asked him with a grin on his face. 

Castiel didn’t bother to answer, tightening his core as the truck lurched into drive. As soon as the trucks reached the paved path, the ride smoothed out considerably. The truck must have amazing shocks. The Pack must an excellent mechanic in their ranks. 

If it weren’t for the horrifically bright sun beating down on them, he might have actually enjoyed himself. The ride was far gentler than he’d anticipated, and the cool breeze dispelled the day’s heat. 

They rode for half a day before the trucks came to a halt in an old lot that appeared to have once held some kind of market. The skeletons of old stalls dotted the area, while faded signs advertised the cost of various offerings. 

Everyone rushed to get out, stretching limbs and working out kinks while food was passed around. Castiel accepted an apple when the crate passed his way, then stood awkwardly when several of the honey bars were stashed in his pockets. Jody winked at him as she walked by.

A few minutes of eavesdropping clued him into the fact that there was a small river nearby. It wasn’t much, but it was cold, and people were popping down in small groups, eager to wash the dust off.

Castiel hadn’t been assigned any kind of buddy or anything, so made his own way in the direction of water. He wasn’t sure exactly where it was, but he figured it couldn’t be that difficult to find.

A hand closed on his elbow without warning, jerking him back. Castiel stiffened and turned, right as his nose caught up with his eyes.

“Alpha,” he greeted cautiously.

“Omega,” Dean parroted back. “No one goes wandering without a partner. House rules. This is a good place as any for a pit stop, but there’s hill folk in the area prone to kidnapping people if they think they can get away with it. Sam and I are headed to the stream if that’s where you were going. You can tag along.”

That struck him as a bad idea, but since he really wanted to wash the sweat and dust away, he acquiesced. He realized exactly why it was a bad idea when they reached the water and Dean shucked his shirt, dunking his body nearly to the waist in the icy mountain-fed spring. 

Castiel’s thirst took on a whole different meaning as he watched the water sluice down Dean’s tanned chest in luscious drops, glittering on pert nipples made taut from the freezing water. Firm pectorals gave way to abs so perfect he wanted to dedicate hours to contouring each isolated muscle with his tongue. And really, how did a man with such broad shoulders have such trim waist? Completely of their own violation, Castiel's eyes traveled further down, where just a hint of a smooth hip ‘V’ peeked teasingly above his tactical pants. Castiel hastily dunked his head in the water, relieved when the icy chill helped clear him of his hormone-driven obsession.

The pack didn’t dawdle, and a half hour later they were back in motion. It was well past dark before they stopped again, this time to camp for the night. Now that he knew what to expect, Castiel got out of the way and watched as the camp was efficiently set up. A small fire made, bedrolls passed out, while the designated cook dumped dried meat and veggies into a large pot over the fire, tossing a homemade sachet of spices in to the mix. Surprisingly, it made for a very decent meal, and before he knew it, Castiel was comfortably full, tucked into a bedroll between several of his packmates. As with the night before, he surprised himself by quickly falling asleep.

The rest of the trip was much the same, until day three when the sky decided to mix things up by pouring rain down on them. The soaked group gritted their teeth and kept moving. 

Castiel could feel the change in the air on the morning of their fifth day. There was markedly less grumpiness all around, and people consistently paused in their duties, staring out east.

“It’s home,” Jody told him with a smile, when he asked her about the change in atmosphere. She handed him a cup of overnight oatmeal. 

“We’re only a few hours out. I know it’s only been a few weeks, and to a person these guys are all volunteers, but it always feels good to get back to pack territory.”

Castiel could appreciate the sentiment, even if he had no practical knowledge. The place he’d grown up in had never really felt like home, and since the day he’d left he’d wandered aimlessly, never finding somewhere he was willing to settle. 

There was no big sign announcing they were now entering Winchester territory, kindly check your weapons at the door. Still, Castiel knew the instant that they did. The caravan passed over a wide pair of dusty crossroads with an apparently unmanned guard tower at one corner. As soon as they reached the other side, the low-key tension riding them eased. People were grinning at each other. They were home.

Castiel watched the landscape as they drove. The narrow road became framed by wild grass nearing five feet in height on either side. It was excellent camouflage for hidden guards. 

The caravan slowed then came to a halt. Castiel leaned up, looking around to see why they’d stopped. The woman across from him winked, and gestured to the front truck. Jody had risen to her feet, balancing atop the truck bed. She cupped her hands and let out a loud, whooping birdcall. The sound was answered by a distant voice, and then another. Grinning, Jody retook her seat and pounded the cab. With a metallic lurch, the truck started moving.

The lead truck made an abrupt right turn onto a neatly concealed dirt road without warning. It was a clever bit of illusion, the turn hidden in plain sight among the wall of tall grass.

A dirt bike tore out from a small side path, the helmeted rider pacing them for several minutes before dramatically pulling up into a sustained wheelie. Landing hard, the dirt biker gunned the engine and flew ahead of the conclave. 

“One of our border guards,” the man next to Castiel yelled to him over the noise from the wind and engines. “She’s a bit of a show off, that one. But at least now we can anticipate a warm welcome.”

The trucks moved down the narrow, rocky road for a good twenty minutes, the path liberally rambling along small hills and curves. They took one final, sharp curve and the endless grasslands gave way to a massive open plain. In the far distance, mammoth trees marked the line of a thick forest. 

Numerous wooden houses sprouted throughout the area in no real organized pattern that Castiel could discern. 

The trucks rumbled to what appeared to be more or less the central area, and with a final metallic whine, ground to a halt. One by one, the engines cut off. The ensuing silence was eerily disturbing. Castiel had grown accustomed to the constant thrum of powerful motors.

To their left, Dean hopped out of his jeep, joined by Sam. An older woman with a kind face and greying hair greeted them heartily, rising on tiptoe to give each of the large brothers a hug.  
\-------

“Hey, boys! “ Ellen hollered. “Welcome back. You were missed.” She was walking towards them, one arm wrapped securely around her daughter.

Ellen glanced back at the trucks filled to capacity with crates. “Looks like we took in a good haul.”

Jo gave her mother a quick hug and stepped back. ‘I need to go help with unloading the cargo boxes.” 

Jo also wanted Ash, the pack’s self proclaimed ‘mad-scientist’ to test the gunpowder, and she had a few blades she’d acquired that needed to be properly checked into the Arms house. Anyway, the Pack Alphas needed some time together to touch bases.

“That we did,” Dean replied with a grin. He leaned down to hug the petite Alpha. “Not as good as when you are doing the wheeling-and-dealing, of course, but Sammy here did alright.” 

Sam smiled, claiming a hug of his own. “Hi, Ellen. We all did well. Smooth sailings. Everything okay here?”

“Eh, nice and boring. The way I like it.” 

Ellen gave Dean a solid looking-over. “So, how was the fight?”

Dean grinned toothily. “Awesome. Fang put up one of the Rafe twins.”

Ellen’s eyes widened. “You took on one of those monsters? And look at you, upright and everything. Call me impressed.”

Sam glanced at his brother. “It was Magog. And he’s dead, now.”

“Well, of course he is,” Ellen, replied. “Those bastards would have stormed us to demand a rematch otherwise.”

Dean nodded, “Yes, that’s exactly what I was thinking at the time.”

Sam smacked his uninjured shoulder. “You are so full of shit.” He turned back to Ellen. 

“Dean’s injured. Down an arm and several ribs are cracked. We need to replace him on patrol for the next two weeks, minimum.” 

Before Dean could give voice the outrage that was clearly on his face, Ellen cut him off.

“Consider it done. Did we at least get something good out of that damn pit battle? Since we’re down our meanest fighter?”

Dean sighed. “Funny you should ask.” Both brothers turned to look at the parked caravan where Castiel was standing, arms curled protectively around his core, looking around uncomfortably. 

“Oh for crap’s sake,” Ellen muttered. “Please tell me he has some kind of skill, at least?”

“Honestly, I’m not sure. But I know he’s really good at being a dick,” Dean replied. “Oh, and he’s about to go into heat. So we have that joy to deal with as well.”

“Really, Dean? That’s not fair. We barely know the guy.” 

“It was him or four giant crates of A grade gun powder,” Dean added. “Sammy here decided that we should pick…that instead.” Dean gestured vaguely in Castiel’s direction. 

“Good for you, Sam.” Ellen replied, smiling up at him. “I swear I don’t know where Crowley gets the stones. Offering up human prizes, and an omega at that. No good could possibly come to an unclaimed omega in that shithole town. Of course we saved him. We can always get more supplies.” 

Dean rolled his eyes. “I guess we should go make with the introductions. Who knows, we may even be graced with a name.”

“Castiel,” Sam said.

“Gesundheit.”

Sam sighed. “No. His name. It’s Castiel. He told Jo just before we left Persephone.”

“Whatever,” Dean growled. He turned and walked toward their newest pack member, Sam and Ellen just behind him.  
\-----------------------------

Castiel watched the Winchester brothers and older woman walk his direction. With all the flurry around him, he couldn’t get a great scent on her, but her eyes and body language pegged her as an alpha.

“Castiel,” Sam greeted, smiling gently. “Handle the trip okay?”

Cas looked at the three of them, not bothering to hide his outright suspicion.

“Right,” Dean muttered. “Ellen, meet Castiel. Castiel, this nice lady is Ellen Harvelle. Our pack runs a little differently than most. We have three Alphas. Sam, Ellen, and me. Shock me and say hi to Ellen.”

“Hello, Alpha Harvelle,” Castiel replied evenly. “Thank you for taking me in. It’s very kind of you all.” 

Dean rubbed at his eyes. 

Ellen smiled, reaching out to take one of Castiel’s hands, gently scenting marking him as pack. “Hi, yourself.”

Castiel allowed the contact, his omega easing a little at being marked. He could handle himself alone, but omegas never really tolerated roving solo well.

“So, Cas. Our territory is pretty big. We’ll find you a map and assign a guide to show you around,” Dean continued.

“Did you pick someone as mentor?” Sam asked him.

“Yup. I figured it would have to be a very patient soul who could handle stubborn, difficult omegas.” 

Ellen glowered up at him. “Dean,” she chided.

“Charlie,” Sam replied, choosing not to engage.

“Duh." 

Castiel glared at Dean. “I’m not difficult. But neither am I a door mat or a breeding toy.” He drew himself up to his full height. “Am I being gifted to this Charlie for my upcoming heat?”

Sam choked; eyes watering as Dean helpfully pounded him on the back.

Ellen shot the two a long-suffering look. “Castiel, honey. I know it’s a hard thing to be an omega out in the world. But our pack is a whole other kettle of fish. We’re a bit on the rough side, but we’re fair. And we protect our own, especially from each other. No one is allowed to be in any way coerced sexually. Ever. You ever feel pressured or someone tries to tell you it’s an order, you tell one of us. Or save some time and punch them in the face yourself.” 

They were interrupted when the dirt bike rider from earlier drove up, the rider dressed in a tannish yellow jacket roughly the same colour as the tall grass, with a matching helmet. The rider barely had time to kill the engine before Dean strode over and hauled the bike up with his good arm. 

Dean swung the rider around, ignoring the outraged squeak and the heavy thud of the bike falling to the ground behind them.

“What were you thinking, popping a wheelie on that road? It’s practically paved with loose rock. You’re gonna break your fool neck.” He set the rider down, far more gently than his gruff tone suggested.

The rider tugged off the helmet, revealing a pale redhead with big doe eyes, wearing an adorable scowl.

“I know what I’m doing,” She told Dean. “I’ve been riding along that road for ages.”

“There’s a difference between riding for guard duty and showboating.”

“You’d know,” she replied sweetly.

Dean sighed, pulling her close for a tight hug. “Missed you, darlin’.”

She hugged back, smiling brilliantly before extricating herself from his hold.

“Sam,” she squeaked, launching herself into the giant Alpha’s arms.

“Hi, Charlie,” Sam replied, neatly catching her.

“That is Charlie?” Castiel asked. Now he understood the joke. 

The redhead slid down Sam’s overlong frame until she was back on land. She spun to face him. “The one and only,” Charlie replied with a wink. “Who are you?”

“This is Castiel,” Ellen replied. “Our new omega. Dean rescued him from Crowley.”

“Of course he did,” Charlie replied, snuggling up against Dean for a hug. “That’s what he does.” 

“Right. Whatever,” Dean muttered, but he couldn't conceal the smile directed down at the young lady. 

Dean extricated himself from the clinging ginger. “Charlie, would you do me a favor? We need someone to play host for Cas, here. He needs to a mentor that won’t punch him in the face.” 

“My name is Castiel,” Castiel said.

“Yeah, I heard. It’s a dumb name,” Dean replied. Sam sighed.

“Of course,” Charlie agreed, beaming at Castiel. “But why would anyone want to punch him?” 

“No reason at all,” Ellen told her. “Dean is just being his usual charming self. I need to go back to what I was doing.” She looked over at the brothers. “Find me once you’ve gotten settled in, would you? I’d like to review the list of new supplies and there’s a little nomadic pack squatting just outside the northwestern edge of our territory that I need to tell you about.” 

“Raiders?” Dean asked eagerly. “Tell me they’re raiders.”

Ellen turned and walked away, Dean pacing beside her. “I need details.” 

“The only details that involve you are thoughts on who we should assign to guard that border. As I recall, you are grounded till that arm heals, bucko,” Ellen shot back.

They disappeared around the corner, Dean cussing up a blue streak.

Sam watched them go. “I should check in with a few things, and I definitely need a shower,” he reported. “You two going to be okay?”

“Absolutely,” Charlie replied, twining her arm around Castiel's elbow. “I’ll get him settled in.”

“I’ll be fine,” Castiel agreed. He believed it. Trying not to be charmed by the impossibly cheerful omega was a losing proposition. 

“First things first,” she told him. “Food and a shower.” 

Castiel seriously considered kissing her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I warned you about the typos, right?
> 
> One more thing. A = pack Alpha, a = designation of alpha.


	5. I Think I'm Gonna Like It Here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And here we have Clan Winchester: a History. Also, that pesky heat thing is still an issue. With so many pretty alphas around, there's really only one thing for an omega to do. Unless that omega is Castiel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: still pretty dry.

Castiel sat on the porch steps of his assigned house, gazing up at a star filled sky. He was beyond exhausted both physically and mentally, but sleep eluded him. 

John Winchester in his wisdom, chose to build the Pack home over the bones of an old, decayed town. This meant that over the years they were able to resurrect a number of amenities, including generator-based electricity and plumbing, to most of the structures. It was but one of his many choices that allowed the Pack to flourish.

Castiel’s assigned living quarters, a small house that was exclusively his own, was positioned in the outer edge of an expanding circle-ish area that radiated outward from the main encampment. As he'd been warned, the amount of territory the Winchesters had claimed over the years was quite large. Big enough that some of the more antisocial individuals had planted their roots the better part of an hour our away. 

Castiel’s house, like most of the pack structures was built with endurance and function in mind, with no claim whatsoever to aesthetics. He had one major living room, with the far wall turned into a kitchenette. A smallish side room held a large bed and some basic furniture, with a tiny attached bathroom and a squat, claw foot tub. 

The area where Castiel had first touched ground was pack central, uncreatively called the Hub. The Hub held nearly all of the pack-centric utilities. There was an Arms house for weapons storage, a Med house that held the bulk of their medical supplies as well as the four pack medics. Charlie offered to show him each and every location, but Castiel begged off, citing that the map should be more than sufficient. 

The one place he had a great deal of interest in was the Canteen. It had some form of cooked meals available 24x7. Folk frequently gathered there between shifts to eat and socialize. It was plain camp food, mostly supplied by adolescents learning to hunt, farm, and cook, but it guaranteed that no one ever went hungry. 

About 3 miles from the Hub, a steep, hilly rise held three houses at the top that looked more or less like all the others, placed in a rough curve overlooking the Hub below. Just behind the hill, the forest took over. According to the map, the entirety of the hill was called Alpha circle, home to their triumvirate of leaders. Sam lived in the middle house, Dean and Ellen his neighbors to either side. 

Charlie also pointed out a distant rocky area with several large boulders, which apparently opened into a number of underground caves. The caves had been set up as a distillery and storage for the pack’s production of Hunter’s Helper, the pack’s major trade commodity. 

As far as places to live, this was one of the best he’d found, thus far anyway. Castiel hadn’t met many locals, but the few he’d met had given him plenty to think about. 

A dirty, tired, but cheerful group of hunters had came in during his first meal in the community Canteen, the group laden with dead rabbits, game birds, and a mid-sized stag. That in and of itself wasn’t remarkable. The interesting part was that the team lead, a cheerful young man who had instantly hugged him and introduced himself as Garth, was omega. The team included two betas, one actual alpha, and the omega. There was no reality that Castiel was aware of in which the omega should have led. And yet he had.

When Castiel had finally lost the battle with his raging curiosity and asked about it, the alpha had just shrugged and said ‘Garth has mad skills.’ 

That was the point when Castiel’s brain shut down and Charlie decided it was time to show him to his new home. 

Castiel thought he’d understood the rules of designations. Alphas ruled, bred, protected. Betas were the soldiers. They carried out alpha orders, performed day-to-day tasks, and had the liberty to choose alphas, other betas or omegas to take to mate, though producing offspring was less common. Omegas handled the domestics; they bore pups, cooked, and cleaned.

Reality of course, proved different. Alphas beat their chests, asserted dominance, and knotted anything that moved while fighting amongst themselves like drunken bears. Betas selectively followed orders and tried to manage alpha bullshit, while resenting their own status and taking it out on omegas and each other. Omegas submitted to everyone, went into heat, became pregnant, and were called sluts and whores for being victim to their bodies needs. 

The Winchester Clan took all that hard earned knowledge of designations and real world expectations, threw it all right out the damned window, gathered the remains into a mass grave, and burned them to greasy ash. The whole lot of them were just…different. 

Charlie, the Moon grace her, had gone over the pack history over dinner. Apparently the Winchesters had bucked the system right from the jump. 

Clan Harvelle was the closest thing the Winchesters had to neighbors. A few years back, the small pack suffered grievous losses. Sensing chum in the water, the pack was ruthlessly plagued by raiders and thieves. Out of options, they petitioned to be absorbed by the fiercely aggressive Winchester Clan. The Alpha Female, Ellen Harvelle, had been ready to give up her life for a safe place for her daughter and what was left of her people. The Winchesters had a reputation for looking after their own.

She’d never expected to be welcomed with open arms, not only offered a home with the pack, but granted equal status with the two Alpha leaders. However, Sam and Dean were young still when their had father died. And they were smart enough to know the value of the wisdom that came with age and experience.

The newly combined pack thrived under its triumvirate. It was Ellen who provided the secret recipe to Hunter’s Helper, and she and Dean dedicated years to perfecting the pack's trademark moonshine. 

The seamless combination of packs wasn’t the only aspect unique to the Winchester Clan. Traditional roles and norms seemed next to irrelevant. They attracted oddities and unusual types like flies to honey. Their head cook was an alpha. Beta guards led hunts and patrols in concert with their alpha counterparts, and omegas seemed to do whatever the hell jobs they wanted. 

Charlie, a strong independent omega who didn’t need no man, thank you very much, was one of the finest strategists in a pack whose backbone was built with old, canny hunters. She consistently led tracking parties, trailed raiders, and had created ingenious hunt and tracking games for the pack’s young. 

It was a lot to take in. Too much, actually. And his upcoming heat wasn’t making it any better. The longer he waited, the better everyone started to look. He’d found himself evaluating betas as they passed and scenting every alpha that came near. Despite the way he was radiating pheremones, Castiel had not gotten a single catcall or vulgar sexual offer. Generally his condition was either politely ignored, or sympathetic glances sent his way. 

Castiel glanced down between the slats of the steps. The ground really was fascinating. He sighed. He knew what he had to do, and he was not looking forward to it at all.

\----------  
‘’Quit being a baby and wear the damn sling,” Castiel heard Sam lecturing as he neared the shared fire pit at the rear of Alpha Row. 

“A week will not hurt you. We’re all safely back from Persephone. You don’t need to hold on to the tough guy persona anymore.”

Castiel ducked into the deep shadows of the wraparound house porch and waited.

Dean’s rumbled growl was enough to make anyone think they suddenly had pressing business anywhere but there. Sam didn’t seem to care. He held out the knitted arm sling expectantly.

“Fine, fine,” Dean muttered, allowing Sam to help him fit the thing across his chest. “But when half the pack thinks I’m broken and challenges me you’ll have no one but yourself to blame.”

“Don’t be stupid,” Sam replied easily. “No one wants your shitty job.”

“Touché.” 

Castiel watched Sam wander away back towards his home. No time like the present. He cautiously approached the small fire.

“If you’re coming to bitch at me some more I’m so not in the mood,” Dean growled in Castiel’s general direction. “So you might as well go on back.”

“I’m not,” Castiel replied. He took a seat on the log nearest Dean, relaxing slightly when the Alpha didn’t object. 

“I came to apologize. I made assumptions, admittedly not without reason, and common knowledge suggests…”

“You really suck at apologies, did you know that?” Dean asked, leaning back on his log. 

“So I’ve been told,” Castiel replied with a faint smile. “Among other character flaws. But, for what it’s worth, I am sorry. And I should have offered to help you carry the gunpowder back in Persephone.”

Dean shrugged, grunting faintly when his shoulder screamed at him. “It’s fine. You weren’t exactly in a good position, as I recall.”

Castiel nodded. “Anyway, thank you. For using your prize to save me.”

“Yeah, sure. So, uh, you decided on staying here, then?” Dean asked, tone turning awkward. Apparently he sucked at the touchy feely stuff as much as Castiel did.

“Yes. If you’ll have me,” Castiel replied. He stiffened, hoping the Alpha didn’t take that as an invitation. Omegas had been claimed for less. “I know I’m not exactly a normal omega.” 

Dean snorted at that. “So true. You’ll fit right in, Cas.” 

“Castiel.”

“Hmm?” Dean asked, sounding sleepy. 

“My name. It’s Castiel.”

“Whatever you say, Cas,” Dean told him, his tone amused. “You’re kinda weird, dude.”

Cas’ smile widened. “You don’t know the half of it. “ He hesitated. “I’m not sharing my heat with you, Dean.”

“I’ll try to survive the bitter disappointment,” Dean said dryly. “Good night, Cas.”

Castiel smiled at his Alpha. “Good night.” He rose, making his way back to his house. He was truly was exhausted. And he felt lighter, like he may actually be able to rest.

\----------------------------

Castiel spent the next several days exploring his new territory. Not everyone was a fucking ray of sunshine like Charlie, plenty were rude or dismissive, but that seemed more likely to be attributed to their cuddly personalities and not related to Castiel’s omega status. 

He’d watched several training sessions, and been assigned a future date to spend some time one on one with a trainer to evaluate his skills. Castiel was looking forward to seeing the look on the man’s face.

Castiel was resting on his porch when he smelled a familiar scent approaching. It took a moment for his mind to filter this one through all the new scents he'd taken in.  
And then he had it. Benny. Wonderful.

“You’re gonna hafta make a decision, you know,” the gentle cadence of his distinctive Cajun drawl floated through the air. A moment later he appeared, leaning up against the porch. “Before your heat decides for you.”

“Are you offering, beta?” Castiel asked, unconsciously wrapping his arms around his cramping abdomen.

“The name’s Benny, sweetheart. How about I make you a list of some of the available alphas and betas you can talk to. And yes, I’m typically on that list." 

“How generous.”

“Don’t be like that. A list of folk willing and able to help that you can trust to do right by you is no small thing.”

He was correct, of course. “I’m sorry,” Castiel muttered. He’d found himself saying that a lot lately. “I’d appreciate that list.” 

A short while later Castiel was actively perusing the names, most of which he didn’t know, when a petite brunette knocked on his porch rail. Apparently, today was a day for visitors.

“Hey new guy,” She drawled, scarlet coloured lips drawn in a sardonic smile.

“My name is Castiel.”

“So I’ve heard. I’m Meg.”

Her body language was very dominant, but that didn’t necessarily mean anything. He’d learned not to make role-based assumptions around here. A cursory scenting told him she was almost certainly beta.

“This place is very confusing,” he stated. 

“You aren’t wrong,” she replied. “Mind if I sit with you?” 

Castiel nodded cautiously. She swung agily over the railing, her long jacket flaring behind her, revealing a pair of fighting knives tucked in waist sheaths. 

She settled down next to him, legs brushing up against his in a blatant disregard for personal space, and leaned in to read over the list of names. “Anyone calling to you?”

Castiel shrugged. “Not really.” 

It was a lie, of course. There was one. Dean always called to him. His scent, his voice, his stupidly beautiful face and expressive eyes, everything about him made Castiel want to have a taste. The mating gland at the back of his neck throbbed eagerly in agreement, tingling at the very thought of the gorgeous Alpha nipping at his most intimate place. And that was exactly the reason Dean was absolutely not an option.

“Well, let’s start at the top. That’s Dean, by the way. He’s usually available and always amenable.” 

In other words, a typical horny Alpha. Cas wasn’t exactly surprised. But a typical Alpha would even now being screwing Castiel’s ass through some flat surface, as was his right over an unclaimed omega packmate. Dean had been scrupulous in respecting Castiel’s boundaries since the day they’d met. 

Meg leaned back, smiling fondly. “Yummy. That man is one hell of a lover. He’s a genuine pleaser, takes his time figuring out what makes his partner scream. Stamina for days, crazy creative. And he’s a real two-hander, if you get my meaning. Hung like a damn stallion. And that personal scent of his is almost as delicious as yours, angel cake.” 

She glanced at the next name. “Ah. Little bro, Sam. Now, I’ve not had a personal taste just yet, but word is he sure knows how to ride a person through a heat. The word ‘stevedore’ might have been mentioned. I’ve been aching to climb Muscle Mountain for ages. But he prefers to keep to himself. He’ll assist with omegas in need, sure. He’s Alpha and single. But on his own, he tends to be fairly selective with bed partners.” 

She moved on. “Now, Benny’s a solid choice. Nice and easygoing, non-threatening, but plenty alpha where it counts.” She gave a little groin thrust as a visual aid. “If you’re wanting a nice, thick knot in a big ol’ sweet-talking, teddy bear shaped package he’s the way to go.” 

Castiel looked up sharply. “Benny is an alpha?”

“Quiet alpha, yea,” Meg agreed. “It’s a noted sub-designation. Very rare. He doesn’t go into rut, which eases the concern of a lot of the more tetchy folks around here. He also doesn’t go around blowing hormones and stinking up the place, either. But take my word for it, he’s a powerhouse of a ride. And he’s considerate. Makes you breakfast the next morning, you know?” She nudged Cas teasingly.

“I understand.” 

“Let’s see, whose next. Avoid this one, he’s an ass. This one thinks he’s a sex god but blows his load in the first 30 seconds….oh, now this one is interesting. She can do this thing with her tongue…”

It astonished Castiel how much intimate knowledge Meg had about the individuals on the list, especially for not being omega. But betas had healthy sex drives too, and apparently that wasn’t something that got you insulted, or worse assaulted, in this pack. 

Long after Meg had left, Castiel stared at the heavily marked up list. His eyes kept going back to the top name. No, Castiel. No. Fucking. Way. As annoying as the Alpha could be, Castiel had the very real concern that one taste would be too much and never enough. He had vowed early in life never to mate with an Alpha. He wouldn’t break that vow for some dumb, sweet smelling, green eyed, perfectly muscled, okay, maybe a little smart, dreamboat of an Alpha who fought like a demon and had a reputation for great sex.

After as much thought on all this as he could bear, Castiel went in search of Sam. Finding him wasn’t hard. The lanky alpha was teaching tracking fundamentals to teenagers. Apparently tracking, as well as basic fighting and weapon care was something every member of the pack was expected to learn. 

“We have plenty of jobs around here. You don’t have to hunt or fight if that’s not your thing,” Charlie had told him in her sweet way. But then she’d added, “But you will damn well know how.” She didn’t need to tell Castiel twice. The omega was totally on board.

“When you have a moment?” Castiel asked softly when Sam caught his eyes.

Sam finished the class a few minutes later and headed over, wiping sweat of his face with a towel. “What can I do for you, Castiel? Settling in okay?”

Castiel licked his lips nervously. “Yes, thank you. I have a personal question.”

Sam raised an eyebrows, understanding filling his eyes. 

This was a terrible idea. Maybe Castiel should fall back on plan B. No, he’d already decided. He was going to follow through. 

“It’s about my heat. I’ve decided to fight it. Will you help?” 

Sam blinked in surprise. “That’s a terrible idea. It’s miserable and not healthy for your body at all. Why don’t I help you find a good partner, instead?”

“Meg has already gone down the list with me. But if you think you have additional information…”

“No,” Sam shook his head adamantly. “I definitely don’t have any more insight than her.” He sighed. “This is a truly awful ideal. But if it’s what you want, than yes. I can help.”

\-------------------

Never. Fucking. Again.

This was the worst idea Castiel had ever had. Six long, torturous days of fever and chills, vomiting and near constant nausea while he fought his body’s demands. Sam had helped, as promised. He’d stayed with him 24x7; radiating the soothing alpha hormones that Castiel’s omega body required, cleaned him up and held him while he shivered. And he hadn’t fucked him. Even when Castiel begged. 

It helped that Sam was Alpha as well as an alpha. As bad off a state as Castiel was in, it was probably the only reason it had worked at all. They’d agreed that if it looked like his body was rejecting this approach Sam would switch to the traditional method. 

But he’d made it. He was done. For another three to four months, anyway. But he had plenty of time to deal with that later. 

It was time to focus on becoming a full, contributing member of the Winchester pack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not sure how I feel about this section. But I really dig how the story ended, so I'll keep plugging on. Oh, and there's an origin story chapter coming up, which I really like but it may or may not make any sense. Cheers!


	6. I'll See Your Halo and Raise you one Winchester

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back story! Meet Clan Halo. Spoiler: they're dicks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I did a bitch/jerk moment. Look, the opportunity presented itself and I’ve always wanted to do one, damnit.)

Castiel was many things. He was a fierce fighter, a loyal friend, a hard worker, one hell of a lover, and a pretty decent weaver, as it turned out. Of the many things he was, a farmer was nowhere on the list. 

While the Winchester Clan weren’t exactly horticultural debutants, they made a point of growing their own food. Particularly the grains used to make Hunters Helper. According to Ellen, the particular strain of corn she’d brought with her during the Harvelle-Winchester integration was a vital ingredient in their hooch’s success. 

Castiel didn’t know enough to argue that point. But he did know that he and corn were not friends. But all plants needed bees, and he’d found that permanently trading his farming duties to oversee the Pack’s thriving bee colony an easy bargain. 

He liked bees. 

Castiel was just shedding the heavy beekeeper gear following a check on the newest hive when he heard the warning whistles.

A particular birdcall sounded, carried over from person to person as the pack scattered to their assigned locations. Castiel dropped his gear and bolted for the weapons house. 

On the outside, the pack Arm House was nothing special. It looked like any of the other small block homes dotting Winchester center. One had to look closely to note the reinforced locks at all the doors and armed guards reclining on the wraparound porch 24-7 to realize it wasn’t what it seemed.

Guarding and dispensing weapons was his current assignment, though he eventually planned to take charge of one the hunting parties. He had the skill, but it would take time to develop the trust needed to assume a lead. He’d barely been with the pack a year; he’d get there.

Several of the specially equipped Pack motorcycles and one of the open sided jeeps were parked across from the armory, prepped and ready to roll out at a moment’s notice. Sam and Dean were already aboard the jeep, waiting for the motorcycle Guard to finish settling their weapons. 

Castiel leaned over the railing, taking in the action around him. Whatever this was, it wasn’t an open attack. The gathering team was wary, but the activity wasn’t consistent with battle. They were in meet-n-greet mode. 

A few moments of careful eavesdropping told him the crew was headed out to the established meeting area at the Winchester border. Interesting. Castiel relaxed somewhat now that he knew crazed fighters weren’t about to burst over the far hill any time soon. 

He had just set a crate of ammunition down when Jo walked up, snagging several handguns from the shelf. The petite blonde’s specialty was blades, but she was still an excellent shot. Her mother would never tolerate sloppy shooting. 

“Thanks, Cas,” she said absently as he handed her a fresh clip. 

“No problem. Any idea what the alarm is all about?”

Jo grimaced. “Halos. A whole gang of them. I’ve never seen so many in one place. We don’t have a damn clue what they want. But at the moment they’re waiting at the border, so we’re going out nice and friendly.”

Flashing him a tight smile, Jo ran over to the last motorcycle and threw a leg over the seat behind a large male. Both motorcycles held two passengers, though the rear rider would roll off long before the meeting and come in hidden on foot through the tall grass that framed the southwest side of Pack territory. 

Castiel closed his eyes, sagging heavily against the wall. Of course. He had a good thing here. He had people who liked him, or at least tolerated him. After years of wandering alone, considered an abberition by anyone who actually spent time with him, he’d finally found a place where he was free to be both an omega and a warrior and no one said he couldn’t or shouldn’t, or even thought it was an odd thing. People were what they were here, and the pack worked with that. 

He didn’t deserve to lose it all. Not so soon.

But as Dean Winchester was fond of saying, since when did anyone get what they deserved?

Castiel flexed his right wrist, prepping the spring-loaded blade hidden inside, and ran out toward the engagement party. He caught the back frame of the lead jeep right as Dean was pulling out, neatly launching himself into the vehicle’s back seat.

“What the hell do you think your doing?” Dean demanded, slamming the brake “Get the fuck out, Cas. You have a designated job, same as anyone else here.” 

“I know,” Castiel growled. “I was doing it until I heard what we were facing.”

Dean leaned back, the deep green of his eyes nearly glowing as they bored into his. “You know something about Halos?”

Castiel nodded. “Yes. They are fierce fighters. Raised from birth to handle a blade. Years of selective breeding made them faster, stronger than most people. I’ve watched you fight, Dean. You’re one of the finest warriors I’ve ever seen. You may even be able to take down a single Halo soldier one on one if you got very lucky. But the upper echelon, Dean they’re barely human.”

“Any idea why they’re here?” Sam asked, though his expression suggested he’d already figured it out. He was just waiting for confirmation.

Cas nodded reluctantly. Taking a breath, he triggered his forearm sheath, launching the blade that had been his as far back as he could remember into his palm.

“Son of a bitch,” Dean snarled, eyes darting down at the unique knife. “You’re a fucking Halo? And you never told me?”

“Don’t feel special. I never told anyone,” Cas snarked back. He raised arm and settled the blade back in its hidden place.

That was not entirely true. Meg knew. But he hadn’t told her. She’d found out on accident, and for all that she was a sarcastic little bitch the vast majority of the time, she was also true and loyal friend. She’d kept his secret. 

“I cannot believe you never told me,” Dean muttered. Castiel stiffened. The alpha was plenty angry, sure, but he sounded a little hurt too. That was the last thing Cas wanted. 

“We had an agreement,” Castiel reminded him, glancing away from the accusatory gaze. 

He could handle all the anger Dean wanted to throw at him, but hurt or disappointment? Those he felt keenly. Whatever it was that he and Dean shared, it was something special. Precious. And Cas had the very real concern that he’d damaged it beyond repair. 

Dean swore and turned back to the steering wheel. “I guess you want to ride along on the meet, then? Say hi to your old pals?”

“I have no ‘pals’ among the Halos. My presence is unlikely to ease the exchange. Still, it’s best that I come.”

“Fine. Whatever. Just don’t do anything stupid.” Dean stood in the jeep, raising an arm in a wide circle, signaling the others that they were ready to move out. Throwing the vehicle into drive, he tore out towards the edge of their territory closest to the crossroads.

The bikes followed close behind. Six of the Winchester’s finest warriors. Dozens of others had already taken off on foot, the hunters well trained to stay low and out of sight. 

Overhead, Ellen Harvelle watched them go, her expression stony. She stood in her place on the roof of the small house that became central command in a fight. Benny stood at her side, clearly unhappy at being left behind. The pack never sent all three of its leaders out at once. Someone had to stay home to run things, and Ellen was the best of the three of them when it came to traps and dirty in-fighting. 

Castiel loved it here so much. He clenched his fist, hoping against logic that there was some way this wouldn’t end in disaster. But even if he somehow managed to evade the Halos, would the Pack allow him to keep his place among them? Would Dean? 

Castiel stared at the tense, angry lines of the Alpha’s shoulders as he drove the jeep. He was beautiful all the time, and when he was angry he was magnificent. But he wasn’t a particularly forgiving person when he felt his Pack was put at risk. 

It took a good 20 minutes to reach the road, Winchester territory having slowly grown over the years. Ten heavy motorcycles, each decorated with a distinctive set of enormous black wings down either side, waited at the designated meeting area. The group was carefully overseen by a number of stone-faced Pack guards. Ten Halo bikes. It was an entire garrison. 

Dean parked the jeep and hopped out, Sam looming at his side. When Cas made to get out as well Dean sent a sharp gesture at him to stay put. Fine. For now. 

“Hey Hot Stuff, come here often?” Dean asked the bikers, smirking at them suggestively.

Sam rolled his eyes, and stepped slightly forward. “Welcome to Winchester territory. Thank you for observing courtesy and waiting at our meeting ground. What can we do for you?”

A lean, fit female alpha stepped forward, removing her helmet. She had short-cropped blonde hair framing a stern face with cornflower blue eyes and pixie features. 

“My name is Naomi. Thank you for meeting with us. We’ve been on the road for some time, tracking a missing member of the clan. We believe that after months of searching, we’ve finally found traces of his whereabouts.”

“Well, good for you.” Dean replied caustically. “Did you stop by our place for directions or something? Borrow a cup of sugar, maybe?” 

Sam made a show of glaring at his brother before turning back to Naomi with a conciliatory expression. “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but you’ve come this far out for no reason. We don’t have any renegades here.”

“Not necessarily true.” Naomi made a show of leaning to the side, glancing over to where Castiel sat in the jeep. “You may have one of ours in your midst and not even know it. Our kind is very good at infiltration.” She smiled. “We like to know what’s going on in the world.”

Castiel stiffened. Is that what Dean thought? That he was some kind of spy? He would never do that. He hoped that the brothers trusted him at least that much by now.

“I’m sorry you wasted a trip,” Sam reiterated. “But everyone on our lands is Pack. No exceptions." Dean glowered silently next to him, but at least he didn’t disagree with the statement. 

Half of the bikers behind Naomi dismounted as one, the single move disturbing in its perfect choreography. That was one of the most tightly kept Halo pack secret. Along with a lifetime of learning fighting with their blades, Halos trained from the cradle to read a form of micro body language, giving them perfect symmetry of motion to the point it looked nearly telepathic. Naomi’s ability to nearly invisibly direct the squad of soldiers was one of several skill sets that made her an incredibly lethal opponentl.

“I have to insist,” Naomi told them politely. “We are picky about who we allow out in the world, our omegas in particular need to be cherished and kept safe behind the Gates.”

She turned her full attention towards the jeep. “Castiel. It’s time to come home. You know the rules our Pack Father laid out for us. You need to return. Rafael personally dispatched me to retrieve you.” 

Her hands flashed in quick fire gestures, the communication all but invisible as she passed her silent message to Castiel. Come back, Castiel. Avoid needless bloodshed. Your friends are noble in their loyalty, but you know that they can’t win against us. I have additional reinforcements nearby, waiting for my call. Come home where you belong.

Castiel shook his head to clear it, firmly dismissing her message with a subtle flick of two fingers. He hopped out of the jeep and walked over, standing alongside the Winchesters.

Naomi turned back to face Sam. “That omega is ours. I understand that he may be of some value to you, and I don’t wish to be unreasonable. Let’s come to an agreement.”

Dean rolled his shoulders, centering his body as he prepared to attack. Sam put an arm out, halting his brother. This was a signature Winchester strategy; something Castiel had seen the pair do more than once. 

Sam was the smart, reasonable, cautious one, while Dean played increasingly dumb and vicious. It usually worked, too. Mostly because it wasn’t that much of a fabrication. Dean was plenty smart, but he was one wrong twitch away from launching himself at his opponents. 

Unfortunately, this situation was far from normal. The Winchesters had no experience with opponents like a team of Halos. Dean wasn’t going to outwit or spook his opponents this time.

“Stop,” Castiel said, stepping around Sam. “I’ll leave with them.” Which wasn’t remotely the same as agreeing to return home with them, but they could interpret his statement how they would.

“Cas,” Dean growled.

“Dean. It’s okay. They’re right. I was born a Halo and I need to go. “

Trusting Sam to keep watch, Dean turned to look at Castiel with the full weight of his beautiful, hauntingly green eyes. Cas drank it in, committing the image to memory. He’d never in his life met anyone like Dean Winchester; and was very certain he never would find his like.

“Remember our deal, Cas,” Dean growled. “No lies. So I’m askin’. Do you want to leave with them?”

Castiel knew what he had to do; just say ‘yes’ and he could stop the fight before it started. But his jaw locked around the lie; he just couldn’t do it. He’d promised.

“No,” Cas replied honestly. “I really don’t. This is my home and given the choice I’d never leave it. But they're right. I should go with them.” 

Dean stepped up, sliding his body between Castiel and Naomi. “There ya have it. He’s ours and we’re keeping him. House rules.

Sam nodded in agreement. “I’m sorry Naomi, but it is Pack law. He’s broken no rules to warrant ostrication. Castiel is Pack. Winchesters protect our own.” 

“I’m sincerely sorry to hear that.” At her words the soldiers behind her strode forward in perfect unity, drawing weapons.

The faint ‘pop’ of a distant gunshot and the furthest Halo soldier to the left was suddenly clutching his chest, blood pouring from the open wound. The man wavered a bit before collapsing heavily to the ground.

“What, you thought we’d fight fair?” Dean asked, glancing down at the bleeding Halo. “Where’d you get that notion?”

Naomi narrowed her eyes. “Remember, this was your choice, Winchester. A bad one. You can shoot every one of us right here and now, and our people will come back with an army. We’ll wipe your entire Pack out of existence.”

“Wait, wait.” Sam stepped up, arms out. “Let's be calm and think this through. If we go to battle, both sides lose lives unnecessarily no matter who wins. You have amazing warriors, Naomi. But we are well armed and deeply entrenched in this land. We know every nook and crevice. Taking us on will cost you more than I think you really want to pay.”

Sam glanced over at his brother for a split second, just long enough to get an answering nod, before turning back to Naomi. “Instead, I propose a single battle. A fighter of your choosing against one of ours. Even fight.”

Naomi cocked her head thoughtfully. “An irregular offer. But I agree; there is no need to waste lives. I’ll accept those terms. If you can find a single person among your Pack that can defeat one of mine in fair combat than you have more than earned the right to claim our wayward omega.” 

Castiel ground his teeth. This was a terrible idea. There was only one logical candidate for the Winchesters to field. Castiel would not allow Dean to fight for him against a Halo soldier. It would be a slaughter.

Dean grinned toothily, his expression eager and more than a little bloodthirsty. 

Sam nodded. “Okay then. We have a deal. My brother, Dean Winchester will fight for our Pack. When and where are we doing this?”

Naomi shrugged. “Here is as good a place as any. And there’s no time like the present.” The halos formed a wide half circle, the elegant maneuver perfectly executed without a sound. It was designed to be extremely creepy, and they'd succeeded masterfully. Dean stepped forward.

Sam grabbed Castiel, pulling him back towards the jeep before the omega could attempt to intercede. “C’mon. We need to give Dean room to work.” 

Castiel dug his heels in, resisting being pulled away. “Sam, this isn’t right.”

“Cas, whatever your objection, it doesn’t matter. The bargain’s been made. It will be okay. This is what Dean does; it’s always been his job. He guards the pack and he’s good at it. Don’t worry, you’ll be safe.”

“Sam, that isn’t what I mean. I understand that Dean is very, very good. But he can’t win, not against one of them.”

Before Sam could answer, a large Halo stepped forward, removing his helmet to reveal a firm, square jaw; dark eyes and short cropped dark hair. “Are you ready, Winchester?”

“Always.” Dean replied with a hard grin. “Weapons?”

Naomi cocked her head thoughtfully. “You gave us time and place. Weapon of choice to you. Fair warning; Gadreel is well versed in all conventional weapons.”

“Awesome.” Dean glanced back at Sam, winking. Some of Sam’s stiff posture eased.

Dean turned, striding to the back of the jeep. He dug around in the weapon box a bit before returning with a large, empty crate in one hand. In the other he held a pair of squat, round glasses and three bottles of Hunter’s Helper tucked in crook of his arm. 

What in the hell? Castiel glanced up at Sam, but the Alpha was focused on their opponents.

Dean slammed the heavy glasses onto the wooden stand with a dramatic ‘thump’. Gadreel stared blankly at them then up at Dean.

“Here we go. For weapons, I choose whiskey. First to fall unconscious looses. Winner decides if he wants to give the unconscious one a throat-length smile.”

Castiel glanced uncertainly at Naomi, who looked liked she’d just swallowed an entire orchard of lemons, but she didn’t object. Shrugging, Gadreel took a seat on one of the two sideways crates a Winchester soldier and hastily supplied before fading back in with the other hunters.

Dean grinned, his bright smile a disturbing combination of eager and bloodthirsty. “I’ll go first.”

\----------------------  
Forty five minutes later two bottles lay abandoned in a discarded heap on the ground, both very recently emptied of the Winchester’s headiest moonshine. A third was perilously close to joining them.

Dean was weaving where he sat, clearly seeing at least two copies of his opponent, maybe more. Gadreel appeared rock steady, though his eyes were noticeably glassy and he was statue-still. 

Dean glared at the shot glass in his hand, looking distinctly betrayed. He closed his eyes, let out a deep breath, and knocked it back. Behind him, the small group of spectators cheered.

Gadreel took up the bottle, filling his shot glass with a hand that shook. Half the glass spilled before he was able to fully lift it. He set it back down, carefully refilled it, gingerly raised it to his lips and swallowed. 

Behind him, his people stared on, silent as stone. Naomi watched the drinking contest impassively, her blue eyes bright with a hawkish glare. 

Dean’s turn. 

Looking distinctly green around the gills, he reached for the bottle, filling the glass until it overflowed. He straightened his spine, and slammed the shot fast, stuttering as it burned its way down his throat to join its many, many friends. 

Gadreel watched as Dean gingerly set the empty glass back on the crate. 

“You’re up, Chuckles,” Dean coughed, sputtering and wiping his mouth with a forearm. 

Gadreel narrowed his eyes and very carefully reached for his glass, knocking it over with the back of his hand when he attempted to grip it. He stilled, glaring at the shotglass as if it were a venomous snake. He focused very carefully on reaching for the glass, this time managing to right it and maintain his grip while he reached for the bottle with his other. 

Using two hands simultaneously proved beyond him. The Halo soldier gave up on holding the glass, instead using his right hand alone to lift the bottle, pouring a thin stream of clear liquid several inches to the left of his goal. Without so much as a whimper, Gadreel’s eyes rolled to the back of his head; the bottle falling from his nerveless grip as he toppled to the ground.

Dean snapped out a hand, deftly catching the bottle of moonshine before it could fall and spill. “No need for waste,” he commented, the words coming out thick and slurred. 

Clan Winchester cheered. 

Namoi stared down at the unconscious body of one her most elite soldiers. She looked up to meet Dean Winchester’s uncompromising, if somewhat glassy-eyed, stare.

“This victory is yours. Do you want to exercise your right to take his life?”

“Damn straight, I do,” Dean growled, taking a knee alongside Gadreel’s body with a good deal more dexterity than he’d shown in the last half hour. 

Magicking a concealed knife into his hand, Dean clutched the other man by the hair, baring his neck. He raised his arm to slash.

“Dean, no.” Sam barked out. “Stop!”

Dean froze in position, the edge of the blade pressed against the unconscious man’s throat. Dean met his brother’s gaze, his eyes still sharp behind the whiskey-induced haze. A faint red sheen skittered eerily across his irises. 

“He’s mine, Sam. My kill.”

“Damn it,” Sam swore. For the first time since their arrival, the large Alpha lost his cool stoicism and actually looked nervous. 

He bolted forward, crouching down just in time to grab his brother’s arm as the blade’s edge bit into the fallen soldier’s neck. A bright red bead of blood spouted at the knife’s tip, dripping in a steady ruby stream into a puddle on the dusty ground.

Dean rumbled violently in warning. “Let go of me, Sammy. MINE. My kill.”

“Don't do it!” Using both hands, Sam managed to lock his brother’s arm in place, the younger Alpha’s biceps bulging with the effort of keeping Dean from slicing the unconscious man's jugular. 

”You won. It’s over. You don’t have to kill him,” Sam told him urgently.

“I want to. I earned it. I need it. Let me go, Sam.” 

“Never.”

The two siblings locked gazes, uncaring of the silent crowd around them. 

“Please, Dean. I’m asking you. Give me the knife?” Time froze as the a silent contest of wills dragged on. And then something gave. Sam sighed heavily in relief when Dean reluctantly loosened his grip, allowing his brother to take it from his shaking hand. 

Dean stumbled to his feet and backed unsteadily away, leaning heavily against the jeep for support. His body shook from a combination of adrenaline, rage, and far, far too much alcohol.

Sam turned to Naomi. “We’re done here. Dean won. Cas is ours.”

Naomi nodded in solemn agreement. She glanced over to where Cas stood.

“Last chance, Castiel. I’ve lost the right to compel you to come with us. But it isn’t too late to choose it. We are your people. You belong with us in a way you never will any were else and you know it. Come home. This is your only chance. If we leave without you, you will be stricken from our ranks. Permanently.”

Castiel nodded. “I understand. Thank you. But this is my home now. I’m not leaving it.” 

At his declaration, two Halo soldiers moved in unison to heft Gadreel’s unconscious body onto one of the bikes, balancing him over the handlebars. Without another word the entire unit smoothly mounted their bikes and drove away.

Sam blew out a breath. “Well. That was fun.” He carefully assessed his surroundings, taking in the Winchester guards, before ending up on Dean. “You okay over there?” 

Dean didn’t look okay. He was clutching the jeep door with both hands and swaying heavily. He looked toward his brother, then turned a blood shot, wild gaze briefly onto Castiel. Clenching his fists, the alpha spun and stumbled away. He dove into the tall grass and disappeared. 

“Dean!’ Castiel called out, attempting to follow.

“Let him be,” Sam cautioned, taking a hold on Cas’ shoulder. “Dean isn’t himself right now. Just give him some time.”

Castiel stared into the place in the high grass where Dean had disappeared. Keeping himself in check rather that following after the Alpha was nearly painful. 

Sam turned back to the others. “Jo, take the speed bike back to camp and update your mother. Also, please find Benny and tell him I need him to track Dean and keep an eye on him till he sobers up and gets his head back on straight.”

“Got it,” she agreed, hopping onto a supped up black dirt bike. She tore off down the dirt path towards the Pack center, disappearing into the rear tire’s dust cloud.

“Okay guys. Fun time is over,” Sam announced. “I want this area seeded with hidden guards. An even dozen ought to do it. I’ll send out replacements at high moon. I don’t trust that pack to keep their word.” 

“They will,” Castiel told him as the hunter’s jumped to their tasks. “A deal made with the Silver City Pack is sacrosanct.” 

“Silver City?” Sam asked, monitoring as most of his people fanned out, while others who weren’t going to be spending the night in the field made their way back to camp. 

“Do you really think we called ourselves ‘Halo Pack’?”

Sam shrugged. “I never really gave it much thought. I’ve heard worse names. Still, it won’t hurt to keep a guard out for a while. Good practice if nothing else.”

The two climbed into the jeep, waiting for the back seat to fill with other people hoping to catch a ride back.

“Sam,” Cas asked softly. “Will Dean really be okay? His behaviour didn’t appear to be merely the result of excessive alcohol ingestion.”

“Yeah, he’ll be fine eventually. I promise. This is hardly his first rodeo. The whiskey wasn’t the problem, but it was a catalyst. Dean went into full battle mode to stay sharp through the intoxication, but he didn’t get a kill at the end. The Hunter in him bucked at being denied its prize.”

“Pretty sure I was the prize,” Cas replied sourly

Sam flashed him a grin. “There is that. But he didn’t get that, either. You could always take off into the woods and offer yourself up. That’s one sure way to get him back.”

Castiel considered that. A feral Dean Winchester pouncing on him, working all that wild aggression out on his body in a rush of unbridled, animalistic sex. He wasn’t sure whether he was intruiged or nervous. Maybe both. 

“I’ll pass.”

Sam chuckled, putting the jeep into gear. He’d just driven into view of Pack center when the double whistle warning sounded behind him. He was out of the jeep in a flash, Castiel at his side. 

“Company’s comin’ in,” Ellen called down from her perch. “Think they decided on round two after all?”

“I guess will find out,” Sam hollered back in reply.

A heavy motorcycle with a trailer in tow was headed down the road towards them at a slow pace, a bike pacing evenly on either side. All three bikes were emblazoned with the black wings of Clan Halo. Sam waited warily, a dozen guards fanning out at his back.

The bikes pulled up to the circle. The rider of the trailered bike hopped off with an overly dramatic leg swing and stood. He removed his helmet, revealing short cut blond hair, light blue eyes, and a saucy smile. 

“Well, hello tall, broad and gorgeous,” He told Sam in an melodic tenor, “I’m Balthazar.” The Halo eyed the Alpha’s frame slowly from head to toe, his gaze distinctly appreciative. 

“Okay,” Sam replied cautiously. What was with the names on these people? “What do you want?”

“Well, since we’ve settled our minor differences, I’ve been empowered to negotiate a deal. Clever of your brother, by the way. I can honestly say that was a first for us. The lads will be talking about it for eons.”

As he spoke, Balthazar turned back to the trailer, unfixing the heavy leather covering and flaring it dramatically to the side. Half a dozen crates of high-grade gunpowder were neatly roped tightly together, as well as a number of heavy bars of quality steel.

“One of my boyo’s snagged the rest of that bottle of that lovely hooch our brother nearly drowned himself in. Turns out, we like it.”

Sam blinked. “You want to bargain for Hunter’s Helper?”

”Oh, smart and handsome. What's a boy to do? Yes, that’s exactly what I’m proposing. Unless you can think of any other things you’d like.” Balthazar canted a hip slightly, smirking. 

“How much are you wanting to trade?” Sam asked, eyeing the treasure carefully, choosing to ignore the flirtation. 

Balthazar smiled. “Well, that depends. How many bottles of that lovely elixir do you have?”  
\------------------------

Sam sat on the porch of his house, lounging under the heavy glow of a fat three-quarter moon. While outwardly relaxed, the alpha inside him paced in agitated circles in his mind. He wouldn’t be able to get any rest until he knew his brother was back and in his right mind. As much as Dean was ever in his right mind, anyway. 

Dean was a little worse off than Sam had let on. He couldn’t remember the last time Dean’s beast completely snapped the chain like that. It would take some doing to get it back under control. Especially since he’d gone fully Hunter without a kill at the end. His beast would demand blood. 

Bright side, the pack would be eating well for a while. Sam had to remember to assign some trackers to locate the animal bodies before other wildlife got to them.

The rest of the day had actually gone surprisingly smoothly. Ellen had come down from her roof and sent for the pack chemist to evaluate the powder while Sam took her place. Ellen was far and away their most cunning negotiator, trading was her baliwack. Ash had nearly peed himself when he tested the stuff, and he was nearly as excited about the quality metals on the table. 

The pack was now light of their annual moonshine harvest by a good 60%, but they’d gotten so much more than they could have hoped for out of it. And they could always trade what they’d gotten off the Halos for damn near anything at any of the border towns. All in all, a solid win.

Castiel had disappeared immediately after they returned, but after their Halo guests left, Sam had tracked him to Meg’s home. Satisfied that the omega was in good hands with his friend, Sam went home to keep an eye out for his brother. That had been the day before yesterday.

Now a full two nights had passed since Dean disappeared, though Sam’s trackers had followed Benny’s trail a short way into the woods before hitting water. His patience was about at an end. If Dean didn’t make an appearance by the end of the third night, Sam was going in after him. 

Sam moved to the swinging porch chair, sipping tea and looking up at a black night filled to bursting with stars. The air was brisk, but not yet freezing. The hint of a cold snap only just touched the air, but he could smell it coming in the wind. He made a mental note to make sure they were stocked for a hard winter frost. 

Night was well on its way to dawn, faint tendrils of pink and baby blue feathering the dark sky when Sam scented a familiar presence. He sat up as a shadowed figure casually strolled up the path to his house, whistling softly.

“Hey Benny. Are you alright?” 

Benny leaned heavily against the railing. “Right as rain, brother. Why do you ask?”

“Because you weren’t hiding that limp nearly as well as you thought you were, and I smell fresh blood on you,” Sam replied frankly. 

It wasn’t all that he smelled, but that was between Benny and Dean. It wasn’t the first time the two damaged males had found a measure of peace in each other and it was unlikely to be the last.

“Yeah, we might’ve thrown down a little bit. Dean’s monster wanted to dance, and mine was a fair bit jealous at being left out of all the excitement and wanted out, too. We didn’t do each other any lasting harm.”

“Is Dean back, then?”

Benny nodded. “Yup. Calm as a cucumber when I left him. He’s walking the town perimeter, making sure all’s well before heading in to bed to sleep for the next day or four.” 

“Thank you,” Sam replied simply. “You’re a good friend.”

“Aw, none of that. You’re making me blush. Now if you’ll kindly excuse me, I’m going to put myself down for a well earned nap.”

Sam grinned. “You do that. Take a bath first, huh? You stink.”

Chuckling, Benny saluted him with his cap and faded away into the night. 

Sam took a deep, soothing breath. He was so freaking tired. He didn’t remember falling asleep but he must’ve dozed because he hadn’t noticed right away when the birds stopped singing. 

The fine hairs at the back of his neck prickled, his instincts whispering that something dangerous was approaching. Sam flew too his feet, scanning the wooded area behind his home. Fucking finally.

Dean strode out from the tree line looking as wrung-out as Sam felt. His older brother didn’t say anything, but came to the edge of the steps and leaned against the sturdy railing.

“One hell of a bender,” Sam commented, taking a seat on the steps next to his sibling. And, just to be a bitch, “Want a drink? A little hair of the dog?”

“Yeah, you can fuck right off. I’m on the wagon for a while. I’m getting too damn old for that shit.” Dean appeared faintly green at the very thought.

“Getting?”

Dean glared at him. His eyes were red and bleary, but clear and free of the killing haze. He was just tired and hung over. 

“I need to sleep for the next decade. Pack okay?”

“Everyone is fine. Ellen did some serious bargaining. You’ll want to touch bases with her when you officially rejoin the living. But our pack did an amazing job. Everyone reported to their assigned locations like clockwork.”

Dean looked satisfied. “We did good with them, Sammy. And I’m gonna remind those whiny bitches about this the next time I get crap about running drills.”

Sam chuckled. “You do have a little damage control,” he warned his brother. “But it’ll keep.” 

Dean winced. “Yeah. I figured. But he’s okay?” 

“Yeah.”

“Well, won’t that just be just barrels of fun. Go to sleep, Sammy. You look like shit.” 

Sam snorted. “And you look daisy fresh?” 

“Fair.” Dean’s jaw cracked in face-wide yawn. “Thanks. For sending Benny to keep me grounded. And…you know. For stopping me before I lost it.”

Sam reached out, squeezing his brother’s arm. “Always. That’s my job.” 

Dean allowed the touch for a moment, then backed away. “Alright. Enough of this moody omega-sentimentality bullshit. I’m off.”

“I’ve been telling you that for years.” 

“Bitch.”

“Jerk.”

With a tired grin, Dean wandered off across the open meadow to the cabin closest to Sam’s. Sam leaned against the porch rail, watching as a petite shape materialized against the dawn light to meet his brother, rising on tip-toe to wrap her arms around him. Dean bent down and accepted Ellen’s hug, holding her close for just a tad longer than usual, then made his way up the stairs and inside the house. 

Sam turned and went inside. He barely had his pants off before collapsing into bed. All was as it should be. He slept.

\---------------------  
Castiel was cleaning his long knife after weapons practice. It had been almost a week since the Halos had come and gone. And since the pack had made a major windfall with the amazing bargain Alpha Ellen had worked out, Castiel was definitely in favor with his packmates. 

Which was nice and all, but they didn’t know the whole story. Castiel was still waiting to hear from the one person who’d paid the price for his choices. The person in his life who mattered most to him. And who was leaning against the weapons locker, watching him.

“Hello, Dean.”

“Cas.” 

When the Alpha didn’t say anything else, Castiel went back to cleaning and storing his training weapon.

“We need to have a chat. Come by my place when you’re done for the evening.”

Castiel nodded agreement. “I’ll be there.” 

It was a clear order, which he tended to balk at, but now was not the time. For starters, Castiel knew he was in the wrong, and he had a debt to pay. More importantly, Dean was using his formal tone, making it clear this was an order from Castiel’s Alpha, not Dean himself. Ignoring that, even if he wanted to, was not an option.

Dean nodded and walked away. He looked good, a little tired still, but fine. A tightness in Castiel’s chest finally eased after days of feeling like he was constantly holding his breath.  
\-----  
Castiel had never actually been to Dean’s house. He’d been in the Alpha Curve plenty of times, but it was usually to see Sam. 

Dean’s house was identical to Ellen and Sam’s. Each house was about a half mile apart, located at the wooded border of Pack territory, a short ways away from the main hub. Three small steps led to the wrap around porch. 

Over the years, Castiel had found himself in the homes of many pack Alphas, one way or another. In all that time he had never once felt like it did with the Alphas of the Winchester Pack. Most Alpha dens carried the telltale scent of rut, sex, and an oppressive Dominance that set his teeth on edge. Conversely, just walking into Alpha Curve was enough to soothe all but the most crazed pack members. 

Dean’s den also felt completely different. As with any Alpha home, Castiel could sense Dean’s presence well before entering, but it wasn’t remotely uncomfortable. Instead, the Alpha pheromones permeating the area felt protective, calming. 

Castiel halted at the stairs, taking a deep cleansing breath. That was a mistake. Dean’s tantalizing personal scent filled his nostrils. That scent never failed to send Castiel into a tailspin. His inner omega felt simultaneously relaxed and protected, while at the same time it wanted, craved attention. Castiel was well aware he had an unusually strong sexual response to Dean, and reining in his slutty omega side got harder all the time. 

But at the moment, both he and his omega were in accord. He’d screwed up, and nearly gotten people he cared for hurt. Whatever Dean demanded of him in recompense he would agree to.

He was still standing there when the door swung open. Leather and tobacco wrapped in honeysuckle. Castiel wanted nothing more than to lick the other man from neck to thigh, see if he tasted half as delicious as he smelled. He choked back the familiar impulse and dropped his gaze in a rare gesture of submission.

Dean’s throaty chuckle filled the quiet evening. “You’re kidding me with that crap, right? I’ve known you the better part of a year, Cas. You’ve never once had the common sense to submit to anyone, least of all me. Come on in.”

A small smile graced Cas’ lips as the tension left his shoulders. Whatever was about to happen, he and Dean were okay. That was all that really mattered. 

He stepped into Dean’s den, looking about curiously. It was oddly organized chaos, and surprisingly cleaner than he’d expected. There was the occasional dirty dish and plenty of clothes strewn about, but beyond the surface mess, it was well tended. And everything smelled of Dean. 

This was exactly why he’d always been so careful to meet Dean anywhere but in his home. His omega was sitting up at attention, just waiting for a chance to pounce or be pounced. Dean had this lazy sexiness about him; calm and so casually Dominant that Cas nearly missed it when he wasn’t paying close attention. 

Dean wore a pair of soft, well-aged jeans that had to be more for lounging than anything else, the frayed denim hugging the perfect contours of his ass. His long sleeved tan knit shirt was tightly stretched across his wide shoulders and the sleeves were rolled up to bare his forearms. 

Dean glanced back at him, green eyes sparkling and a slightly smug curve to his lips. Bastard was well aware of the affect he had on Cas. And he was thoroughly enjoying it. Castiel narrowed his eyes in familiar annoyance. 

Then a new thought occurred to him. Submission came in many forms. It was a common practice for Alphas to use sex to assert their dominance. Dropping his gaze outside had been a calculated act, and of course Dean had seen right through it. Sex, though, would be completely different. There could be no pretending. 

If that was what Dean wanted, needed, to redress the balance between them, Castiel would yield. He refused to acknowledge the part of him that devoutly hoped that was exactly what Dean would demand. 

Cas wasn’t sure how much of what he was thinking was showing in his expression, but whatever he’d let slip; it was enough to wipe the smile from Dean’s face. Castiel had hurt him, again. 

“C’mon back. I wanted to show you something.” Dean led the way to the back of the small house. In Sam’s home that had been the weapons area. Dean’s set up was no different. 

A myriad of guns and blades were neatly tacked along the wall, as well as metal boxes of bullets arranged by caliber on the counter top. Cas ran his fingertips reverently over an ancient looking battle tomahawk, then looked at the next display. He stilled. The bottom left of the board held a pair of crossed Halo knives. 

The weapons were forged with such perfect balance and heft that his people called them Angel made. The weapons were sacred, each Halo getting exactly one when they left the Silver City to venture out into the world. There was only one way Dean could have acquired them. Halos would die before they sold or traded the precious weapons away.

‘’This ain’t the first time I’ve scrapped with your kind,” Dean told him. “A while ago, when the pack was still fairly small and dad was running the show, a pair of your buddies came sniffing.”

Castiel spun back around. “They are not my buddies.” He was looking Dean square in the eyes, too stunned to maintain any facades.

If his open defiance bothered Dean, the Alpha hid it well. Then again, Dean had never seemed to give much of a rat’s ass about formal displays of submission, as long as his people did what he told them to. 

Ignoring Cas’ interruption, he plowed on with his story. “I took them both down. By myself. I would have taken my booze buddy, too, if I’d had to. I got lucky and found a better way.”

Dean leaned against the wall and folded his arms across his chest. The casual pose was incredibly sexy and Cas had to force his attention off the way the position beautifully emphasized the musculature of Dean’s arms, forcing his gaze to the man’s face.

“You recall when you first joined our pack? Hell bent and determined on telling me exactly jack and shit about your past. You were all about that blank slate. And I agreed. I just asked for one thing. One. Your past was your own. All I needed was your promise that nothing you left behind would come back on the pack.”

Castiel looked away. “I know. I honestly never thought they’d care enough to look for me, much less find me. Nearly all Halos are betas. Our clan has a very difficult time reproducing, and the rare omegas we do manage to birth are seldom allowed to leave our territory. I was…an abberitation.”

“You don’t say,” Dean replied with a faint smile.

“Anyway, I was allowed to leave for a week, and promptly disappeared. That was six years ago. I was very careful to cover my tracks. I suspect they found me by accident.”

“Yeah, dollars to donuts that accident was named Crowley. Limey bastard,” Dean muttered.

“Naomi is one of our top alphas. If she says I’m officially off the roster than it is so. We won’t have any problems with them again,” Castiel promised.

Dean nodded. “I believe you.” He took a step forward, resting a warm hand on Castiel’s shoulder.

“But Cas. You need to get this. I mean really get it. You do not go off with enemies, or run away cuz you think it’s the right thing to do. You’re ours now. As entitled to aid and protection as anyone else in this Pack. I’m your Alpha. It’s my job to protect all of my people. I can and will fight for you. That’s what I do.” 

Dean moved closer until they were pressed chest to chest. He leaned down, his breath tickling Cas’ neck as he ran his nose along the sensitive skin just behind his ear, soft lips brushing against his neck. 

Every hair in Cas' body stood up at attention. Mother moon, he wanted Dean. Wanted to be held down and taken, fucked until he was too sore, too sated, to move. And then he wanted to do it all over again. But more than sex, more than heats, he wanted Dean’s bite, craved it. That last thought was deluge of ice water directly onto his libido. 

Cas held very still. “Is this what you need to make us right?” He asked, his choice of wording deliberate. “Then take it. I won’t resist.” 

Dean growled, the low rumble vibrating against Castiel’s chest where it was still pressed up against Dean’s firm body. The Alpha took one more deep breath, filling his lungs with Cas’ scent. 

Castiel’s inner omega was going crazy, doing the lambada, a tango, and some form of chaotic interpretive dance inside him at this development. It urged him to rub up against his Alpha, to seduce with his body and his scent. This was a fit mate for him, his omega self pressed. Strong, protective, controlled. Dean smelled so good. It was taking all of Cas’ will to hold back. 

Dean sighed. “Go on home, Cas. We both know that you don’t really want to act on this, whatever we have. I’ll see you later.” 

The Alpha turned and wandered into his bedroom, closing the door behind him.

It was an order, made with just enough Dominance to compel Cas to break free of his body’s hormone-driven urges. Cas wasn’t good with orders, he hadn’t been since he left the Silver City and vowed he’d never blindly follow commands again. 

He looked at the closed door. Dean was in there, alone, and definitely wrestling with his own libido. Cas could open that door, go to Dean and take what the Alpha had blatantly offered. Dean wanted him; he’d made that perfectly clear on many occasions.

No. He could never be casual with Dean. One taste and Castiel would want more, would want everything with the man. And even if by some miracle Dean was on board with that, Cas was not. He’d decided years ago that he would never voluntarily mate with an Alpha, never be sublimated, a creature ruled by his designation. 

Turning on his heels, Castiel left Dean’s house, striding into the deepening twilight towards his house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, this chapter took a sharp left into whatthehell, I won't lie. But I do like how it worked out. Also, the end is nigh. And by nigh, I mean smut. Mediocore smut, but smut nonetheless. All the hurt/comforts.


	7. Every New Beginning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean Winchester and Castiel reach their climatic moment. 
> 
> I should add a warning for slight non-con. And tons of truly mediocre smut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a long one. I hope you're into hurt/comfort. Spoiler alert: Destiel. I will go down with this ship. Also, I only write happy endings...

And so life moved on. 

Almost before he realized it, Castiel was coming up on his third year with the Winchester Pack. Had it only been three years? He felt as if he’d been there forever. 

He had taken charge over the Pack beehives and they were thriving to the point that honey had been added to the list of major Pack trade items. Due to the specific purity of his special blend, it proved to be a particularly profitable trade to the medicinal traders. 

Early in his second year he’d been granted leadership of one of the hunting parties. They didn’t leave often, and were primarily designated as defense in case of invaders, but that was more than enough to suit him. 

Even his issues with heats had been largely resolved. He had found a number of beta friends and they’d formed a small, selective orgy that helped each other out when the time came. The whole thing was Meg’s brainchild, of course. But it worked. And during the few times his heat was particular strong and he needed an alpha’s care, Castiel went to Sam, occasionally Benny, or a lovely female alpha from a tracker team he’d met that was always happy to take him for a ride.

For the first time in his life, he didn’t dread his heats, accepting them as a natural part of who he was. Mother Moon help him, he was beginning to look forward to it.

Things were good. So when Castiel felt the first stirrings of yet another quarterly reminder that he was a being built for pups, Castiel didn’t bother with resentment or denial. Instead, he started casting an interested eye on his available packmates, preparing well ahead of time for several days of mindless fucking. No lie, it was a boost to his ego just how many looked interestedly back. 

Castiel was still deciding on whom he wanted to spend his time with into the next day. He’d just finished preparing his morning coffee when a familiar scent wafted into his window on a soft breeze. 

Curious. Things being what they were, it was particularly exhilarating scent. Down boy, he chastised his inner omega. This was one person who was completely off the table.

While the two had become steady friends, frequently going on camping hunts or even border town trading points once in a while (but never Persephone, Dean had forbidden it and Cas hadn’t bothered arguing with a decision he agreed with), Castiel always made a point to stay far away from Dean near the start of his cycle. The Alpha always obliged the unspoken request, tending to disappear for several days just before Castiel’s heat came to the fore. 

Which was way Dean was the last person Castiel expected to see leaning against his porch at dawn. Well, that and Dean’s deep, lasting aversion to mornings.

Cas filled a second mug with coffee, snagged a blanket, and stepped out into the chilly morning air. He silently handed the alpha the steaming cup and took a seat on the stairs next to him. Dean accepted the coffee with a nod of thanks.

The two men sat in companionable silence, listening to the soft sounds of early morning. 

“Dean?” Cas asked after a while. He tugged his warm blanket tighter against his body.

Dean took a sip from his coffee. “Cas. I need a favor.”

“Of course,” Castiel replied instantly. Dean rarely asked anyone for anything. 

Dean licked his lips, the unconscious action ungodly attractive. Cas traced the motion with his gaze; fervently hoping Dean was feeling particularly chapped this morning. 

“I need you to find someone other than Sam to pair with this cycle.”

Castiel blinked. He had partnered with the younger Winchester Alpha for heats on several occasions, and as far as he knew, Dean had never voiced an objection. 

Dean sighed. “Do you know who Eileen is?”

Castiel nodded. Everyone knew about the Lone she-wolf Sam had fallen so intensely for. It was one reason the calm, handsome Alpha had remained unmated for so many years.

“The last few days we’ve caught wind of her scent at the edges of pack territory. I checked it out. She’s there. If there’s even a chance that she’s thinking of coming in, maybe even joining with us, I’d like Sam to be free.”

That made perfect sense. And explained Dean’s presence. He’d cut his own hand off before he asked someone for a favor for himself. But this was about Sam.

“Of course, Dean,” Castiel assured him. “I understand. I can find someone else.” 

Dean nodded. “It’s appreciated.” Chugging his coffee, the Alpha rose and strode back in the direction of Alpha Circle.

Well, this was a conundrum. Castiel had actually had been thinking Sam, so now he’d have to scramble. Several of his beta friends were off on a run; they’d not be back for a week two at the earliest. 

Cas sighed, peering into the dark swirl of rich coffee. There was Benny, of course. They buried their initial issues with each other years ago and while they would never be the best friends, they had an easy camaraderie and had indulged in some very high quality sex. 

But Benny had been sniffing after a lovely brunette brewer that seemed to reciprocate his interest. Castiel didn’t want to interfere with that. He didn’t know whom to decide on now. 

In a particularly mature decision, he fell back into his older patterns: he avoided the matter entirely. And every day that he ignored the issue, his body became increasingly uncomfortable. Before long Castiel was frequently becoming nauseous to the point that he couldn’t eat. And every day he convinced himself; just one more day and he’d figure something out. And then one more day. Then another.

And then it was too late. 

It was Dean who eventually found him, of course. Castiel was at the north edge of pack territory, deep in the woods with no clear recollection of how he’d gotten there. A benign glow from the half moon filled the night, the bright Cheshire smile holding court over a star laden night. 

Castiel was oblivious to the beauty of the winter night. He was curled into a ball; his arms wrapped around his tucked knees, simultaneously freezing and burning up. At some point he’d made a half hazard nest of leaves and twigs, though he didn’t remember doing that, either.

He was shaking too hard to stand, the world would not stop spinning, and he’d vomited so much he was reduced to dry heaves. And he was so ridiculously horny that he’d fuck a fallen tree branch if he could find some way to manage it. Even some of the more phallic shaped pinecones were beginning to look like a viable option.

He scented Dean long before he heard him. Naturally the Alpha would be the one to find him. Dean had a sixth sense when it came to packmates in trouble.

“Damn it, Cas,” Dean muttered, scooping him up in strong arms. 

Muscles that had been taut for too damn long finally relaxed, and Castiel wrapped an arm around Dean’s shoulders, burying his nose in the Alpha’s neck. Leather and fresh tobacco with a hint of clover honey. That so-familiar scent, intermingled with the soothing pheromones of his Alpha, eased the cramping in his stomach, quelling the worst of the chills. 

Dean smelled so damn good. He always had. Not remotely like rut and sour sweat, the typical reek of the alphas he’d spent so much of his life evading.

“Why do you do this to yourself, huh?” Dean asked, his voice gruff as he carried Castiel through the woods. “Are a few days of crazy, wild sex really worth making yourself sick over?”

“It’s the principle of the thing,” Cas informed him, already feeling better now that he was getting a healthy dose of alpha pheromones.

“Right.”

Castiel lost sense of time, but when he came back to himself they were walking into Dean’s house, and he was being settled on a warm, firm mattress, his body covered with heavy blankets and buttressed with pillows. A nest. He eyed Dean carefully, waiting to see what would happen next. A body wide shudder gave him some idea that something would have to.

Sighing, Dean sat on the mattress next to him. “You’re in bad way, you moron.”

Cas snorted. Duh.

“Your little beta pack of orgy enthusiasts isn’t gonna cut it this time. You waited too long. You’re gonna need an alpha, the stronger the better.” 

Dean hesitated. 

“It would be best for you partner with your Alpha. But if you’re dead set against me, I’ll find someone else. Ellen or Sam would work, but Sam is off limits and Ellen is out of town. Benny is seeing someone. Asa, maybe? He’s a strong Hunter alpha and he’ll take good care of you. It still won’t be a ton of fun, but at least you’ll survive to be a dumbass again the next time you ignore a heat. But you need to make a decision.”

Castiel didn’t appreciate the dumbass comment, which he would have told his Alpha if he could talk through the abrupt rush of chills knocking his teeth together. 

Not that it mattered, Castiel had already decided. He’d known from the first time he laid eyes on Dean that one day they’d end up here. Which was why he was always so very careful to stay away. Heats he could survive; a broken heart was another matter entirely. But his time was up.

Castiel leaned into Dean’s personal space, taking another strong whiff of Alpha. Dean’s scent was so very enticing. And it soothed Castiel’s heat pains for a few blissful moments, leaving only a raging need to fuck in its place. His cock was so hard it was painful, and his body screamed to be filled. More than anything. Mother moon, he needed a dick in his ass. 

“Dean,” Castiel got out through gritted teeth. “Please. Help me get through this damn heat.” 

“Help you fight it?” Dean asked, needing to be clear. “As far gone as you are, it’s dangerous. Also, I’m really not the best at that…”

“No! Not that. I’m not doing that ever again. I’m asking you to fuck me. Energetically. Arduously. Pick an adjective.” Cas narrowed his eyes. “Now would be good.”

Dean threw back his head and laughed with his whole body, and it was beautiful. All the more so for it being so rare a thing for the damaged Alpha. Cas decided right then he would do anything to hear that carefree sound again.

“You are the worst omega I’ve ever met,” Dean told him with a grin, standing to strip off his shirt. 

“I’m choosing to take that as a compliment,” Castiel told him darkly. 

“Oh, you can take it however you want,” Dean replied with a wink. 

And then he was naked and Castiel didn’t really care what he was saying because damn, the Alpha was gorgeous. Hot, smoking, beautiful, sexy…mmmm 

And stacked. Dean Moon, Dean was hung. How did betas that didn’t have the luxury of creating thing own slick manage to take that thing? Irrational jealousy flooded him and Castiel lunged forward, grabbing the alpha by his hips and yanking him close. 

He took a second to rub his face in Dean’s groin, inhaling deeply. Dean groaned above him, placing one knee on the bed for support. 

Taking the sound as approval, he wrapped one hand around the width of Dean’s cock, holding it place so he could wrap his lips around the reddened tip, sucking it as far down his throat as he could manage.

Dean was already hard, the taste of precome a salty welcome on Cas’ tongue. Breathing heavily through his nose, Cas set a fierce pace, wanting to take the alpha over the edge hard and fast. 

Castiel’s hips snapped against the blankets as he humped the bed in time with his eager mouth. They would have time for finesse later. Now he just needed them both to come, and he needed it now.

Pulling off just long enough to take a hasty lungful of air, Cas swallowed as deeply as he could, taking Dean’s cock down his throat until his nose brushed against the alpha’s pelvis. And then Dean was snarling, his hands locked on Cas head as he unloaded a flood of hot come down his throat. 

Castiel’s hips moved faster, rutting blindly against the bedspread, his orgasm chasing Dean’s. It was the work of a moment until he was spilling onto the bed.

Cas tore his head out of Dean’s grip and flipped onto his back, gulping deep, needy breaths of air. Dean crashed onto the bed next to him, panting. Heh. Dean got the wet spot.

“Jeez, Cas. Where the fuck did that come from?”

Cas coughed a hoarse laugh. “Years of repressed desire.”

Dean turned his head, smiling in that boyish way that Cas adored. “Yeah?”

Cas weakly smacked him on the arm. “Don’t pretend to be coy. It doesn’t suit you. You know I’ve always been attracted to you.”

“Well, I am irresistible,” Dean agreed. The smiled faded. “But I figured it was just your omega reacting to its Alpha, and not what you really wanted. Otherwise why would you avoid me all this time?”

So many reasons. Because he was worried he would lose a piece of himself. Because he’d never reacted to anyone the way he did with Dean. Because the more Castiel wanted something, the more likely it was he’d lose it. Because he was scared…

Cas sighed. He glanced down at Dean’s spent cock, gleaming deliciously with spit and come. “How long until that thing is ready to go again? I’m still in heat if you recall. I really, really need you to fuck me as soon as possible.”

Dean decided to allow Cas to divert their discussion. This new topic was so much easier than that heavy shit. He groaned and rolled over, letting his full weight settle on top of the other male. He knew Cas was more than capable of bearing it. 

“Have you been getting into the pies, again? You weigh a ton,” Castiel informed him.

Dean pulled himself up to rest his muscular forearms at either side of Cas' shoulders, displaying a taunt chest above delightfully chiseled abs. “You have a smart mouth, did you know that? Not wise for a man in your position.”

Cas looked up into his eyes in blatant challenge. “And what exactly do you plan to do about it?”

Dean leaned down, taking Cas’ lips in a deep, claiming kiss. His hips slid smoothly against Castiel’s in a delicious frottage. Excellent. He was already hard again. 

“Nope. Wrong question. The right question is ‘what do you want me to do about it?” Dean asked, his hips setting a fast staccato pace against Cas quickly filling erection. His lips moved to trace the sensitive places behind his ear, nipping at the lobe and tugging.

“Dean,” Cas groaned, attempting to thrust up with his hips. Dean bore down, trapping his hips against the bed 

“Nah uh,” he told Cas, deep voice teasing. 

“Please,” Cas tried, reaching up to grip Dean’s ass with both hands. 

Fuck, it was even firmer than he’d imagined. The skin was silk against his fingertips, and Cas couldn’t help but knead at the firm flesh, digging into the taut gluteals. He was probably leaving bruises, but Dean only purred harder. 

“Please what?” Dean murmured, pressing all of his weight onto Cas’ trapped body. “You can have anything you want; all you have to do is ask.”

Bastard. Cas was so hard it hurt. His ass felt bereft, his hole clenching against the emptiness. He was already soaked to the thighs with slick and they were just getting started. What would it be like to take all of that giant Alpha cock? It was suddenly vitally important that he find out. So he gave Dean what he wanted. He begged.

“Please fuck me, alpha. I need it. Please, Dean.” 

“Anything,” Dean promised. Then his weight disappeared leaving Castiel bare to the cool air. Wait? Where was Dean going? 

He must have made some noise of distress because Dean was instantly back, calming him with soft kisses and nips along his neck. Cas groaned and turned his head, offering complete access to the Alpha’s clever tongue. 

A small part of him warned that he was too exposed, that his mating gland was in easy reach. Cas didn’t care. He trusted Dean to his very core. 

“I’m not going anywhere, gorgeous. I promise.” 

A final quick nip on his lower lip and Dean was gliding downward, punctuating his journey with well-placed licks and bites. Chest, nipple, abdomen, pelvis, lower, dodging his cock in favor of more southern treasure. Before he was completely with the program, Cas’ legs were pulled wide and a deft tongue swiped against the rim of his hole.

Cas cried out at the sensation. He was by no means new to it, but even in his own vivid imaginings, he’d never dreamed Dean would do this to him. He was just so…Alpha. Alphas took, and fucked, and used. They didn’t care what their bedmate felt.

Dean clearly cared very, very much. He buried his face into Cas’ ass with gusto, licking him like he was Dean’s favorite flavor of ice cream. The deep rumbles of pleasure suggested he was enjoying this every bit as much as Castiel. A swipe across his hole with the flat of Dean’s tongue and the omega gave up on thinking and gave into sensation. 

Clever fingers slid in next to the tongue, loosening his hole in the best ways. He didn’t need it, not really. He was omega, built to take cock. His hole would relax during penetration without preparation. But it wouldn’t feel good, not at first. 

Dean slid Cas’ legs over his shoulders and raised him up. This new position allowed the alpha easier access. He wasted no time in plunging three fingers deep inside while his tongue glided along the edge of his dripping hole.

Cas gasped. “Dean. I’m loose enough. More than enough. I need you inside me.”

“Okay, okay. Hold on, Mr. Bossy,” Dean muttered. He sat up on his knees and positioned his cock, Cas’ legs still propped over his shoulders.

Without further discussion he thrust deep, making Cas take a good half of his length from the jump. Cas froze, and he took a gulp of air, willing his body to adjust. Later, he’d appreciate the virtues of a well-endowed alpha, but for now this was taking too long. He had plans, damn it. 

“Now,” he groaned out through clenched teeth a few breaths later, nudging the Alpha with his heels.

“I always knew you’d be trying to call the shots in bed,” Dean told him with a smile that was pure devil. His eyes had darkened from their usual apple green to a rich, dark amber-flecked shade that matched the Pack’s best barrel aged whiskey. 

Before Cas could regain enough breath to respond that that admittedly accurate accusation, Dean shoved his cock in the rest of the way, burying himself until his knot pressed up against the rim of Cas’ ass, just shy of sliding in. Dean slid back out, paused, then repeated the motion, the slow, steady thrusts easing the residual ache from his initial penetration.

Once he’d again filled Castiel completely, Dean leaned forward, his hand planting on either side of Cas’ head, bending him nearly in half. Castiel hadn’t thought he could take that cock any deeper. He was so, so wrong. 

Cas groaned, losing what was left of rational thought as Dean began building speed, gliding in and out with powerful thrusts. Somewhere along the way Cas had let loose his death grip on Dean’s ass to clutch at the sheets, digging his fingers into the mattress. He couldn’t help, or even move really, in his current position. All he could do was lay back and enjoy the ride. 

He was long past chills and pain, the heat urges more than satisfied with the overwhelming rush of alpha pheromones and the most intense pummeling he’d ever felt. He’d been with alpha’s of Dean’s length before, and his width, but the combination of the two was like nothing he’d every experienced. His ass would never be the same. So. Fucking. Worth. It. 

Castiel’s orgasm took him by surprise; he’d been so lost in the pleasurable burn and ache of being thoroughly fucked that he never even noticed he’d been riding the edge until he was pushed over it.

He legitimately screamed, new wetness pouring out of him, soaking them both where they were connected, saturating the blanket beneath them. Dean continued to fuck him though his orgasm, groaning as Castiel’s ass clenched around him.

“Cas.” He ground out. “I really need to knot you. Say yes.”

“Yes. Yes. Please, yes.” He’d been feeling the catch of Dean’s knot against his hole for some time now, and if Dean didn’t give it to him, he was going to roll them over and take matters into his own hands. 

Dean didn’t answer, but on his next thrust he kept pushing, forcing his knot through the tight ring of muscle, and ejaculated what felt like an endless rush of semen into him.

Dean collapsed on top of him in an exhausted, sated heap, lowering his legs back down. Castiel wrapped his arms around the other man and rolled them to their sides. Dean’s eyes were closed as he panted, gulping in deep breaths of air. Cas wasn’t much better; he may or may not have blacked out for a moment at the end, there. Gradually their bodies calmed as they came down from a truly impressive pair of orgasms.

“So,” Dean huffed, looking over at Cas. His eyes glittered with a sparkle of familiar mischief. “Come here often?”

“As soon as we unlock, I will beat you,” Cas threatened. 

Dean laughed. “Kinky bastard. Well, I’ll try anything once, twice if its fun.”

“How long until your knot goes down?’ Cas asked, deciding to table that statement for now.

“Fifteen, twenty minutes. Better get comfy.”

That was a good idea. Castiel reached behind him to grab Dean’s arm, settling his head against a muscular bicep. Dean chuckled.

“Feel better?” Dean asked in a more serious tone.

“Much better. Thank you.” So help him, if Dean said ‘my pleasure’…

He didn’t, but the smirk on has face clearly said he was thinking it. 

“I hope you didn’t have any plans for the rest of the week,” Cas commented idly. 

His heats tended to be more intense then an average omega’s, and he’d put this one off for too long. He’d need to spend a long time getting caught up. From where he lay, that sounded just about right. 

“None more important than this,” Dean replied with a smile. “I’ve been trying to get into your pants for years.”

“You don’t say,” Cas responded coolly. 

Dean chuckled. “Fair warning, Sam will come by at some point. He gets twitchy if he we don’t touch bases on the regular.” 

Of course, one whiff of this place and his brother would drop supplies at the door and beat a hasty exit, most likely spend the night camping far on the other side of the territory. 

“Not that we’ll see him,” Dean added. “He can be prudish sometimes.”

Cas lifted one elegant eyebrow. “Really? Not that I noticed. He actually seemed particularly inventive…ow!”

Dean had bit him. Hard. It was his upper shoulder, nowhere near his mating gland, but still. And it wasn’t a gentle bite, either. That one would leave a mark for days. 

“New rule,” Dean told him darkly. “You are absolutely forbidden to talk about sex with my brother around me. Like, ever. That’s just wrong, man.” 

Cas narrowed his eyes but didn’t comment. They laid together, simply enjoying being in each other’s arms. It wasn’t long until Cas started to get restless, the familiar itching burn quickly building. 

Dean noticed, of course he did. He shifted his hips and Cas winced at the pull against his ass, the knot still too full to come out comfortably. Shrugging at this dilemma, Dean swiped at the moisture between them, coating his hand in slick, and took Cas’ awakening erection in a firm grip, leisurely stroking him to full hardness.

Cas closed and relaxed into the attention. “Is it always like this with you?” He asked languidly.

“You’re gonna need to clarify that one.” 

“Are you always so attentive with your lovers?”

Dean shrugged. “I always make sure my partners are satisfied before we’re done. Particularly if I’m working an omega through their heat.”

It wasn’t exactly the answer Cas was hoping for, and it hurt to think he was just another packmate getting the care he needed from his Alpha. But he had asked. At least Dean was courteous enough to give him an honest answer.

“You’re different,” Dean continued after a moment. His hand resumed moving along Cas’ shaft. “I’ve never craved anyone the way I do you.”

Well, it was better than nothing. At lease he was unique. A familiar ache filled his body, his heat fully reasserting itself. As lovely as the hand job was, it wasn’t nearly enough. 

Cas shifted his hips, successfully dislodging his body from Dean’s. He rolled away from the Alpha’s natural furnace of body heat, placing a firm hand on his chest and pushing him flat on his back when Dean made to follow.

“My turn,” he stated firmly. Dean raised any eyebrow but shifted to his back, pillowing his head against folded arms. The position left him completely open and was sexy as hell.

Castiel slid up so he was sitting on Dean’s thighs, taking a moment to enjoy the scenery. He’d seen Dean’s bare chest so often he could draw it from memory. But the whole full frontal image was new. 

A faint hint of blonde hair started at Dean’s navel and trailed down to frame his cock, the organ slowly rising to attention under Castiel’s gaze. Firm, round testicles were neatly tucked under the generous helping of cock. He’d want to spend some time on those, too. 

But not yet. Right now he needed something else. Cas rose up, gripping the base of Dean’s cock and holding it in place as he slowly teased his way down the Alpha’s length until his ass rested on Dean’s hips. He clenched his hole, smiling when Dean grunted, the alpha’s whole body tensing in response. 

Dean locked eyes with him, baring his teeth slightly in playful challenge. “So, your gonna drive this boat, huh? Okay, omega. Let’s make it interesting. Who do you think will come first? Loser gives the other a blowjob.”

Castiel raised an eyebrow. Blowjobs were happening, no matter what. But a challenge had been issued. And Castiel hated to lose. 

“Hold on for the ride, Alpha.”  
\--------------------

Castiel lost track of how many days they’d been screwing. He had to hand it to Dean; the alpha had no trouble keeping up with him. The man’s stamina was damn near limitless. No wonder the other people he’d been with tended to respond with a dreamy smile whenever it came up.

True to Dean’s assertion, a large basket of fruit and meal bars, plus a full bottle of their best hooch that carried Ellen’s distinct scent, had appeared on the porch, the food staples smelling strongly of Sam. In addition, hot meals on covered trays were routinely dropped off. Cas was always hungry, but given the option he’d choose sex every time. It took cajoling and bribery on Dean’s part to make sure Cas got the necessary calories. Not to mention an occasional dousing the omega in Dean's powerful shower. 

It was probably the third day or so when Castiel no longer opened his eyes craving cock. And he managed to go a solid two hours without an erection. Interesting. He’d gotten through the worst of it faster than usual.

Dean was a much more relaxed lover than Castiel would ever imagined an Alpha could be. He was strong, demanding, and plenty dominant, of course. And he had an extreme fondness for mixing up positions. It said something about Dean’s skill and the level of trust between them that Cas didn’t think twice about going on hands and knees for the other man when asked. 

It was seldom one of his preferred positions, though it tended to be somewhat inevitable. However, with Dean it turned out to be an amazing way to fuck, penetration-wise, and gave Cas leave to maneuver his body back onto Dean’s cock at a speed and depth of his choosing. 

An even greater surprise was the alphas willingness to accede to most any of Cas sexual requests, readily allowing the omega to hold him down and take what he wanted.  
But what nearly knocked Castiel off his ass was when Dean, after hearing Castiel offhandedly comment about the sorry state of his well-used hole, point blank offered to allow the omega to fuck him instead. 

Never in a million years would Cas have imagined such a viciously dominant Alpha to welcome switching. But the easy familiarity in the way Dean rolled to his abdomen and took it for him left no doubt that this was hardly an unusual experience for the alpha, and it was a position he definitely enjoyed. 

Castiel woke on the fourth, fifth day? Who knew any more? Dean lay next to him, lying on his belly, snoring softly. A healthy length of stubble framed his jaw. Castiel’s rug burned asscheeks clearly remembered that stubble. 

Dean was always handsome, but he was ridiculously beautiful when he was asleep. When awake, his eyes always carried the weight of the sacrifices he’d had to make to protect his people. 

Gazing down at the peaceful alpha, Castiel realized his greatest fear had been realized. Now that he’d gotten a piece of the man, he never wanted to let go. And Dean had never been his to keep.

Dean’s eyes flicked opened. His body stiffened, head cocked to he side as he listened, gazing towards the front door warily.

“Right back,” Dean told him, leaning in to steal a quick kiss. 

Another surprising thing; how casually affectionate the man was. And the hole Cas was digging for himself just kept getting deeper and deeper. Dean rose, pulled on the first pair of pants he found, and headed to the front door moments before someone knocked.

A vaguely familiar feminine voice caught Castiel’s attention. Well, that was annoying. He’d thought it would be Sam or Ellen with an important pack question. 

It was common courtesy to stay away when an omega in heat was with their chosen partner. And simple common sense if it was an alpha in rut. Which, thankfully Dean was not, or they’d never be able to get out of bed.

“Risa, now is really a bad time,” Dean was telling his guest. 

Castiel rose, not bothering to dress, because fuck her, and wandered into the hall to watch the interaction.

“I’m aware you’re still with another omega,” the petite brunette was saying. “It’s fine. Just, my heat will come up in a few weeks and I was hoping you’d pair with me again. This guy you’re with will be long done by then, and if you remember, it went so well last time.”

“It did,” Dean agreed, smiling briefly. The smile faded to a hard scowl. “But it’s not remotely okay to talk about this right now, and you know it. Go away, Risa.” He put a little growl into the words, and more than a hint of command. 

The omega’s eyes widened at the chastisement and she turned, walking purposefully away back towards the Hub.

Dean closed the door, pausing a bit before turning to face Castiel. 

On some sane level, Cas was aware that Dean was planning damage control, and that he’d sent the other omega firmly away. But none of that made it through the fog of sudden, overwhelmingly possessive rage.

How dare she come out here in the middle of their pairing and try to make a claim on Dean’s time, like she had the right to it. Dean was more than just some parade stud whose job it was to screw anyone in need of a fuck. 

More importantly, Dean was his.

All hint of reason long gone, Castiel flew at Dean, slamming his back against the wall and pinning his arms above his head with all of his considerable strength. Omega didn’t mean weak, and with adrenaline fueling him, Cas was a formidable opponent.

Not that Dean couldn’t get Cas off him if he really wanted to. He could. But he wasn’t trying. 

Dean gazed at Castiel, his pupils lust blown, his cock rock hard against Cas’ hip.

“Jealous of the girl, big guy?” Dean baited him with a deliberate smirk, rolling his hips against Castiel’s erection. “Well? Gonna do something about it?”

Oh, Castiel was going to do something alright. He spun Dean around, pinning him against the wall with his hips. He switched to hold both of Dean’s wrists in one hand so he could undo his jeans, the loose pants falling to ground. 

He reached between his legs, gathering a good amount of his own slick in his palm and coating his cock with the stuff. He pressed the tip to Dean’s rim, pausing just long enough so that the alpha knew what Castiel intended and giving him time to decide if he willing. 

Dean pressed his ass back against Castiel’s cock; the deliberate tease all the encouragement Cas’ needed before sliding in with a single thrust. Dean groaned, clearly on board with the rough entry. 

Once deeply seated, Cas took Dean’s other wrist back in hand, pressing him against the wall with all his strength and weight. He began thrusting, snapping his lean hips at a bruising pace. 

Castiel leaned forward, planting soft kisses and warm licks down his neck, nipping at the hot spot just above his clavicle. Dean rumbled with pleasure at the dual sensations, relaxing into it as he allowed Castiel to take what he needed. 

The alpha smelled so fucking good. He was everything Castiel could ever want. Dominant, protective, more than tough enough to protect him and any pups they may have down the line. They hunted well together. And the sex was the best Cas had ever had. 

In that moment, there was only one thought filtering through Castiel’s mind. Castiel wanted Dean. And he was keeping him.

Without conscious thought, Castiel lunged forward and savagely bit into Dean’s mating gland, claiming the Alpha as his own. Joy and pride, satisfaction and pleasure, saturated his body as he reveled in his prize. Then he tasted blood on his tongue and the wall of reality came crashing down, clearing the possessive fog from his mind. His eyes flew open with a horrified realization. 

Suddenly Cas was flung away, tumbling to the ground. Dean was standing over him, his hand covering the back of his neck while ruby hued blood flowed around his fingers.

Ice water filled his veins as Castiel realized the sheer enormity of what he had just done. Oh shit, oh shit.

“What the fuck was that?” Dean demanded, rage burning in the brilliant depth of his emerald gaze.

What it was was a death sentence. Castiel had staked a mating claim, and he’d done so without consent, or permission. It was the gravest violation of a person, his greatest fear. And he’d just done it to Dean. 

“Dean, I’m sorry,” he whispered. What possible else was there to say? 

The Winchester clan was all about consent. Anyone, regardless of designation, that dared force a mating bond was subject to immediate execution. No question, no tribunal, the sentence swift and absolute. Castiel had even witnessed Dean carry it out, once. There had been no hesitation. Just a bullet between the eyes, and a permanent dirt nap in some random hole in the ground. 

Castiel had spent his life worrying about being claimed against his will by some monstrous Alpha. But he’d never heard of it happening in reverse. Trust it to him to be a freak even in this.

“I didn’t mean to do it. I…wasn’t thinking. At all,” Castiel told him, desperate that his Alpha, his friend, know he’d never deliberately…but then he kind of had. 

All the anger drained out of Dean. He leaned against wall, staring at nothing, blood still oozing from his neck, testimony to the ferocity of Castiel’s mating bite. 

Seeing that Dean was still liberally bleeding, Castiel rose and went to the kitchen to dig out a medical kit. Wordlessly, he handed a fresh antiseptic cloth over. Dean absently accepted it and held pressure on the wound, lost to his thoughts.

“We need to call Sam. And Ellen,” Cas said quietly. “I’ll tell them exactly what happened. It was a horrible, unforgivable mistake. I acknowledge that.” 

He swallowed. “As an alpha, you shouldn’t have any trouble surviving an incomplete claim.” It would be terrible, alphas had been known to get incredibly sick over rejected mating bites, but they survived it.

Dean spun, hurling the bloody rag across the room where it slammed against the far wall, sliding slowly to ground with a wet ‘plop’. He bent over, hands on his knees, taking slow, deep breaths. Cas waited silently, eyes downcast. For once it wasn’t an act.

“This is a problem,” Dean said finally. He looked up, more serious than Cas ever remembered seeing him

“I can’t fix it,” Castiel replied quietly. “I don’t have some magic time machine that will let me undo what I’ve done. If there was anything I could do to make this better I would.”

Dean stood to his full height, unabashedly nude, powerful and confident. “Do you mean that?” He asked quietly. 

“Yes, of course,” Castiel promised, though he had no idea what good it would do.

Dean nodded, thinking. “Okay.”

He looked into Cas’ eyes, every inch the Alpha. “You want to make it better? Then turn around, Castiel. Offer me your neck.”

Castiel straightened in shock, eyes wide as he took in Dean’s deadly serious gaze. That was one way to fix things. If Dean claimed Castiel, there would be no rejection, no illness. They’d be a mated pair, free of reprisals. It would save Cas’ life. 

And what would he live for? Stuck in a forced mating, even if it was completely his fault? Living the rest of his life the way he’d always feared, always carrying the guilt for committing the worst of atrocities?

How could he live under the same roof with the person he loved above all else, knowing he wasn’t loved back? That it was all a lie? 

More than any of that, it wasn’t fair to Dean. The alpha didn’t want this, didn’t want Castiel that way. He was still a young male, with a world full of options before him. They’d never discussed relationships, or Lady Moon help him, a family or pups. 

This was just Dean doing what he always did. Whatever it took to protect his Pack. 

“No,” Castiel replied quietly. “I would give you anything I could in recompense for my actions, but I will not do that.”

Dean sagged, leaning heavily against the wall, wrapping his arms around his bare chest. All that radiant Alpha energy slowly drained out of him, leaving a tired man in its wake. 

“I don’t get you, Cas. Am I that horrible? I know I have a darkness in me. I’m a Hunter Alpha by blood and I had to become a killer too young and too often. I’ll never be normal. But I have control of it. I’d never hurt you.”

That was absolutely nothing like what Cas had expected the other man to say. “Dean, no. That’s…that’s not what I’m saying.” He walked a hesitant step forward, reaching out to place a hand on Dean’s arm. It shook under his touch, the first hint of rejection sickness starting already. 

Dean had a mating bite, but he hadn’t taken in his partner’s. It was going to start to really suck in a little while. Despite everything that had just happened between them, Dean didn’t shake off his touch.

“You aren’t terrible at all,” Castiel said. “Who you are, what you are, doesn’t scare me. You’re the strongest, most honorable person I’ve ever met.”

“Then why won’t you accept me? I’d be a good mate.” Dean asked softly.

“The best,” Castiel agreed softly. “Better than I could have dreamed of.” 

Dean’s eyes bore into his, gaze haunted. “Then why won’t you be mine? I can’t stand the idea of watching you die, Cas. You’ll take a piece of me with you.”

“Yes,” Cas agreed, “I know. Rejection illness is terrible. But you’ll get through it.”

“What? Don’t be fucking stupid. It’s not about that damn bite. I love you, you moron. You think I’m just gonna shrug that off like an old overcoat?’

Castiel stilled. “You what?”

“Are you seriously telling me that you didn’t know? I thought I was pretty obvious about it. Sam’s threatened to write you sonnets on my behalf.”

“I had no idea. None. You never said anything.” Suddenly enraged, Castiel shoved Dean back against the wall. “You love me? You idiot! Why didn’t you ever say anything?”

Dean opened his mouth to respond but Cas shoved his tongue in before he could get a word out. Dean kissed back like a man on a mission. He poured everything he had into that kiss; desperation, lust, desire, and love. He kissed like Castiel was the most important thing in his life. 

Cas broke off only when the need for air demanded it. He dropped his head, resting his forehead against Dean’s bare chest.

“Truth, Dean. Between us, always. We made a deal. I don’t know love, I’ve never experienced it.” He looked up, drowning in a sea of brilliant emerald green. “Please. I need you to tell me this is real, not some selfless act to save my life.”

“Don’t be stupid. I ain’t that selfless. What I am is completely, ridiculously over the fucking moon for you. I’ve wanted you since the first time we met and you threatened to cut my dick off. I've needed you since I watched come out of your shell and show everyone the kickass, thoughtful, loyal, ridiculously stubborn person you are. No matter what I ask of you to do, you tend to do the exact opposite. It’s maddening as all hell. And I can’t imagine my life without you in it.” 

Cas snorted wetly; when had he started crying? “I’ll make your life miserable,” he muttered.

Dean laughed, he actually laughed, sounding brighter than Castiel could remember from him.

“So, nothing will change.”

“Everything will change,” Cas replied firmly. “For starter’s, certain stupid brunette omegas are going to need to find someone else to knot them. Actually, the smart ones too. And redheads, and blondes. I don’t share.”

“Say goodbye to your little beta harem,” Dean replied. He raised a hand, running his palm possessively down Castiel’s arm. “You’re mine, only mine. Live here with me. Help me lead the Pack. Make this a safe place for our kid’s kids to grow up.”

Castiel leaned up and claimed Dean’s lips in a gentle kiss. Dean’s body shook as rejection toxins built up inside him. Castiel reached up and ran his thumb tenderly along the savage bite at the back of Dean’s neck. The shivering faded. 

“What about pups?” Cas asked. 

Dean shrugged. “I like ‘em just fine. You want pups? We’ll raise a whole damn litter together. If you don’t want to, I have a whole pack full wanting my attention. Either way, I’m happy.” 

Dean leaned in and nuzzled against his neck. “C’mon Cas. Agree to be mine, for always. We can spend the rest of our lives bickering over every little fucking thing.” 

“Well, when you put that way...”

Dean’s shivers picked back up, but he stayed still. Waiting. 

“Yes! Okay, yes.” Cas tiled his head invitingly. “Claim me.”

Dean’s smile turned wicked. “No.”

“What? What do you mean, no?”

Suddenly Castiel was hoisted over Dean’s shoulders as he carried towards the bedroom. The man really was ridiculously strong.

Dean tossed him onto the bed, ignoring Cas’ grumble of protest.

“Roll over, darlin’. We’re doing it right this time.”

Cas dropped his eyes in remembered shame.

“Hey. None of that. I don’t give a rat’s ass what it took to get us here. I’m good. No, actually I’m great.” Dean smirked. “I’m about to claim the hottest piece of omega ass in the entire pack.”

Castiel chuffed at that, but couldn’t help but smile too. Resisting Dean when he being playful like this was nearly impossible. The alpha was a force of nature. Being his mate would be a new challenge every day. They’d snark, argue, and fight with each other endlessly. And that was okay. They’d get past it. Not to mention all the make up sex. 

“Enough with the woolgathering. We doing this or what?” Dean asked, bringing him back to the present.

Castiel rolled his eyes but crawled backwards on the mattress to give Dean room.

Dean climbed onto the bed crawling over towards where Castiel laid on his back, naked and harder than he could ever remember being. His cock felt like it was chiseled from mahogany and his ass was drenching the bedding beneath him with slick. 

“Hands and knees, omega mine.”

Cas rolled over, for once in his life not arguing. He took a wide stance, going down on his forearms, ass canted invitingly up. He turned his head to look back, electric blue eyes daring Dean to do his worst. 

It had taken Castiel a long time to understand what his omega friends had been trying to explain to him for ages; the act of presenting didn’t automatically mean submissive bitch. It could also be demanding, taunting, seducing. And right now he meant all of that. 

They’d been having sex virtually nonstop for the better part of a week. Dean didn’t bother with foreplay and Cas would have snarled at him if he had. This was about connecting, as deeply as possible. 

Even loose as Cas was, Dean was a lot to take. He flinched a bit at the initial penetration, but Dean didn’t slow his thrust, confident that Castiel could handle a little rough action, wanted it, and would not be shy in telling Dean if he didn’t like something. 

“Ready?” Dean murmured, nuzzling Cas behind an ear, nipping teasingly at the mating gland.

“Now,” Cas responded at his most commanding, just to hear Dean laugh. And also because he really wanted to be fucked. Fortunately, they weren’t mutually exclusive.

Chuckling at his bossy soon-to-be-mate, Dean pulled out to the tip and slammed back with his full strength, forcing a grunt out of the omega. The power of his thrust was so strong it sent Cas sliding forward and he had to scramble to get his hands against the wall to keep from hitting his head. 

Dean set a bruising pace right out of the gate and Cas loved every aching second of it. Heat built inside him, the promise of a mind-shattering orgasm on the horizon. Impossibly, Dean sped up, slamming his ass, the edge of what promised to be an epic knot brushing against Cas’ hole with each pass.

Castiel whimpered. He clenched his thigh muscles, spreading his legs wider in an attempt to stay upright through the pounding. “Please, alpha mine. Claim me.”

Dean didn’t hesitate. He ran his fingers through Cas’ hair, gripping the silky black strands and yanking his head to the side, biting savagely into the mating gland. 

Castiel screamed as pain and pleasure rocked through him, ripping the most intense orgasm he’d ever experienced out of his body. He was distantly aware of Dean’s rumbling roar as his cock pulsed inside him, slamming his knot home and feeling it catch, but he was too wiped to care.

Dean collapsed next to him, curling them on their sides as comfortably as possible. He felt around until he found an unsoiled sheet and tucked it over their joined bodies.

“Honey, I think we woke the neighbors,” he muttered languidly. He sounded smug. And so very happy that Castiel couldn’t even call him on it. Or maybe he was too sexed out to bother. But one thing definitely needed addressing.

“Do not call me ‘Honey’.”

“Sweetcheeks?”

‘No.”

“Angel cakes?” 

“I will hurt you.” 

“Whatever you say, darlin’.”

Cass rumbled a frustrated purr deep in his chest. His mate was so annoying. But Dean was worth it. Mostly. Well, at least he had a nice ass. 

“Go to sleep, Cas,” Dean murmured. “I intend to stay in bed for at least two days. When we get up, we have to tell the family.”

Oh, Mother moon. Castiel shuddered at the thought of telling everyone. The sheer number of hate letters from the pack’s single omegas alone would be enough to drown him. And then there was Sam, and Ellen, and Benny, and Meg, and…yes, sleeping seemed like a much better option.

Tucking himself into the warmth of his contentedly snoring mate’s body, Castiel felt strong arms unconsciously close possessively around him. He closed his eyes and fell into a deep peaceful sleep. 

Home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that is all she wrote. 
> 
> I have a propensity for writing short(?) one-off's so there may be some of that later. Probably an epilogue, at least. And I'll fix some of the typos. I promise.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you had a nice time reading this. Thank you for all the lovely comments!


	8. Three Days Later; an Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The happily mated couple need to come out sometime. Enter Sam, stage left. 
> 
> -I wrote two new chapters, a prequel and an epilogue. One of them is a nice PG story with actual plot, the other one is this one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is mostly smut cleverly hidden beneath a thin veneer of angst. Like ice cream with that magic shell stuff on top. The chocolate shell is the angst.

Castiel blinked his eyes, attempting to adjust to the unfiltered dawn light. It’d been a solid four days, moving into five, since he’d seen the light of day beyond a dim haze hidden behind thick curtains. It was past time he step outside the house and reacquaint himself with the outdoors. 

He stretched his arms high overhead, reveling in the chilly morning air. A crisp breeze teased along the newly exposed skin of his abdomen, goose bumps prickling up over his warm flesh. He was past the peak need of his heat, but it’d be a day or two yet before he was completely ready to rejoin the world. Or maybe never; he thought ruefully. 

The savage bite over the mating gland at the back of his neck throbbed, an aching reminder to the unexpected direction his life had taken. He rubbed at the mark, gut tightening at the accompanying rush of shame as he recalled what had happened. What he’d taken, he told himself firmly. He wouldn’t sugar coat his actions, even in his own mind. He didn’t have the right.

The soft sound of footsteps crunching on frost-coated leaves made him stiffen momentarily before his nose caught up with his ears. He settled at the familiar, reassuring scent. This wasn’t a safe situation, not by a long shot, but he didn’t need to worry about imminent danger. At the moment. 

“Sam,” he greeted softly, his deep voice unnaturally loud in the solitude of early morning.

“Good morning, Cas,” the Alpha replied, smiling slightly. “You look well. Relaxed.”

Cas snorted. 

Sam was still several feet away when he froze, the smile disappearing from the man's handsome face. He lifted his head, sniffing at the air. Before Cas could say anything, the large alpha was striding up to him. Ignoring any respect for personal space, Sam placed a hand on the back of Cas’ ruff, turning his head so that the back of his neck was bared to the Alpha’s gaze.

“What the hell have you done?” Sam demanded harshly. But he wasn’t talking to Cas. He was looking past him, gazing over the omega’s shoulder towards the house. 

Cas didn’t have to turn to know what Sam was looking at. Or rather, whom. Every muscle in Castiel’s body had come to attention, aware to his DNA that Dean was behind him. Dean Winchester, his Alpha. His mate. 

Cas shook his head from side to side, subtly trying to shake off Sam’s hold without making a production of it. It didn’t work, the Alpha’s grip holding him firmly in place. Despite the hold, Cas was able to turn his head enough to look behind him.

Dean was lounging against the side of the house, arms casually crossed over his chest. His delightfully bare chest, and equally enticing abdomen. The Alpha hadn’t bothered with more than a pair of jeans before coming outside, the sharp V of his hipbones prominent over the well-aged denim hanging low on hips. It was all Cas could do not to tear his head out from Sam's hold, drag his mate back into the house, and take his tongue to all that deliciously bared skin. 

Unfortunately, that would have to wait. Any sudden movements on Castiel's part would be a terrible idea. Dean may look the picture of ease, but the deliberately relaxed pose was an illusion. The Alpha’s gaze was hard on his brother; every muscle tensed. Dean was walking a very fine line, a hairsbreadth away from launching himself at his sibling. 

“Sammy, I’m going to need you to let go of my mate,” Dean warned quietly. “I ain’t asking.”

“Please,” Cas added, his tone carefully blank. 

Two of the most powerful, dangerous alphas he’d ever met were staring each other down, and he, an omega that both had some claim to, was stuck between them. This was one wrong move away from bloodshed. 

Sam frowned at Cas in realization that he was still holding onto the omega, and slowly removed his hand. Taking in his brother’s tenuous state, Sam made a visible effort to calm himself. He put both hands palm up and took a step back. Not an easy thing for an Alpha to do, particularly when an omega seemed at risk. 

“Easy, Dean. Not poaching, I promise. I just smelled blood and I was worried about our packmate.” 

It wasn’t all Sam had smelled, but he kept that part too himself. Dean was on the cusp of losing it. His eyes had adopted an ominous red glow behind the soft green that Cas adored, and a brief sheen of impending violence skittered across his retinas. Anyone with a hint of common sense would see the warning for what is was and find a reason to remove their body as far from the vicinity as possible. Sam, of course, clearly wasn't going anywhere.

Dean strode forward, taking Castiel into his arms, pulling the omega’s back flush with Dean’s bare chest. Cas didn’t fight the handling; rather, he leaned heavily back into his mate and tilted his head in invitation, readily baring his neck for his alpha. 

Not that Cas wasn’t scared. He was terrified for the brothers, two very large males capable of inflicting serious damage on each other, but he had no fear of Dean. No matter how enraged, his mate would never harm him, even on accident.

Dean leaned down, pressing his face into his mate, snuffling softly at the base of his neck. His tongue delicately licked across the fresh bite mark. Cas closed his eyes, shuddering softly. Heat flared in his groin, need tighening his abdomen. Whatever Sam and Dean needed to work out, they’d better do it quickly or put it of off until later. Cas had some very important plans for that tongue.

Fortunately, his body language worked as he’d hoped, calming his mate’s protective rage. He felt Dean’s muscles relaxing as his body came down from attack mode. He glanced over his shoulder; relieved to see the red haze had bled away and Dean’s eyes were back to their usual green hue. 

Intellectually, Castiel knew that an omega should be able to calm their mate, but he’d never really given the practical application much thought. The ashamed part of him eased a bit, realizing he may actually be able to be offer something useful to his mate.

Sam responded to Dean’s relaxed posture, his shoulders sagging slightly as he also went off battle mode. 

“Dean,” he told his brother softly, his tone openly concerned. “This is a problem. You have to know that.”

“Yeah, no,” Dean replied coolly. “This is between me n’ Cas. And anyone has an issue with my mate can come talk to me about it. Sometime that isn’t now.” 

Dean spun around, tugging Castiel with him towards the back door of the house. Cas came along readily, completely on board with this plan. On some level, he knew Sam had very valid concerns that needed addressing, but at the moment, he had a gorgeous mate sliding a sneaky hand to his caress his butt as they walked and Castiel found he had much more urgent concerns on his plate than Sam’s issues. Namely, getting Dean’s cock in his ass as soon as physically possible.

“Dean,” Sam called out in frustration as they walked away. “Cas?”

“Later, Sammy,” Dean called over his shoulder. “I have a mate in need of satisfying. Come back for lunch.”

“A late lunch,” Castiel added. His mate’s frankly stunning refractory period was surpassed only by his nearly boundless stamina, and Cas intended to make full use of both gifts. 

The door slammed behind them and Cas spun in Dean’s arms, pressing his erection into Dean’s hip and grinding just this side of painful. Dean growled, one hand cupping the back of Cas’ head, pulling him in for a kiss. An agile tongue slid between Castiel’s lips, demanding he open for his alpha. 

Cas obliged, allowing Dean to savage his mouth, whimpering as the hand on his ass slipped into his pants, fingers sliding along his slickened crack to tease at his hole.

Gasping, Cas reached down between them, firmly stroking Dean’s erection through the butter soft denim. Dean groaned, pressing his hips into the touch. 

The hand on Cas’ head slid to his shoulders, pressing insistently down. Cas obeyed the silent cue, sinking to his knees. He took just a moment to nuzzle at the crotch at his eye level before making quick work of the button and zipper.

He didn’t bother with teasing; they had time to play and explore later. Gripping Dean’s erection with one fist to hold it steady he opened his mouth wide to accommodate the impressive width and took it as deeply as he could before his gag reflex kicked in, forcing him to back off.

Hands gripped his head, taking control, easing Cas mouth back and fourth along the length of cock more shallowly than he would have on his own. Still, it felt amazing be filled that way, a delicious preamble of things to come, and he loosed his neck muscles, allowing his alpha full control of his head. 

Cas reached up; taking a double handful of the most amazing ass he’d ever felt, massaging the muscles, silently encouraging Dean to fuck his mouth. He slid one finger along the crack of Dean’s ass, pressing teasingly at the hole before sliding the digit in. Over the last few days he’d had multiple opportunities to discover just how much Dean loved assplay.

Dean groaned. “That is fucking fighting dirty,” he growled. Castiel chuckled, the sound muffled as his mouth was stuffed with Alpha cock. 

Yanking Cas’ head off his erection, Dean pulled him up by the shoulders and half led half dragged him into the bedroom.

“Oomph,” Cas muttered as he was tossed none-to-gently onto the bed. 

Token protest aside, he actually enjoyed the rough handling. Loved that his alpha didn’t treat him like he was a fragile creature in need of the kid glove treatment. Castiel was tough; a fighter in his own right, and it both delighted and relieved him that his mate saw him that way. 

Not that he wouldn’t enjoy some slow build and romancing. Later. Somewhere way down the line when his heat was sufficiently sated. He had a feeling Dean would be an attentive, adoring mate as well as the raging sex monster he was currently channeling. It would make for an interesting future.

Right now, Cas was all about the sex monster. Shucking the pants, he’d been commando from the start; he rolled to his belly and shoved his ass in the air. 

“Fuck me,” He demanded, looking challengingly over his shoulder at his mate. 

Dean had managed to remove his pants back in the other room and already had one knee on the bed and was smoothly crawling up to meet Cas on the bed. He slid his hips flush against Cas’ slick-soaked ass, sliding his cock between Cas cheeks and gliding gently.

“Is this what you want?” He asked, tone teasing.

Fucking hell. Cas was going to fucking murder him. No help for it. “Yes,” he gritted out. “That is what I want.”

“Say ‘please,” Dean replied, his beautiful eyes alight with mischief. And something else. 

Dean wasn’t completely past their unfortunate meeting with Sam; his Alpha still very much at the fore. He wanted Castiel to beg. Fine, then. Cas would oblige, eventually. But Dean would have to work for it.

Gritting his teeth, Cas pressed back into Dean’s teasing thrusts, not responding to the jibe.

“C’mon,” Dean growled. He leaned down; chest pressed against Cas’ back, and nipped him on the ear. Hard. Cas grunted.

“Tell me you want it,” Dean murmured, rough voice husky with lust. It took nearly everything Cas had to stay silent. 

Dean’s chest rumbled, a deep, throaty purr that vibrated against Cas’ back. Sweet Moon, the man had a powerful alpha purr. Someday Cas needed to sit on his chest and make Dean purr for him, take in the sensation of that strong, vibrating rumble against his balls, along the crack of his ass. Later. So many laters.

“I’m going to fuck you so hard,” Dean murmured, nibbling at his neck. His hips continued to smoothly thrust that thick cock between Castiel's cheeks. His hole clenched in need. His was so empty. He desperately needed his mate to fill him, knot him. 

“I’ll slam into you from the jump,” Dean’s filthy bedroom voice teased in Cas’ ear. “No prep, no easing in. I’m gonna make you take all of me to the root, pound my knot against that needy hole of yours again an again until you’re loose enough to take it all. You’re so wet, babe. I can tell how bad you want it. And it’s all yours. Anything you want. You just have to ask me.”

Dean sat back up, gripping Cas’ hips in his hands so forcefully he was sure to have finger shaped bruises. It was that image, his Alpha marking his body, that melted away the last of Castiel’s stubborn determination.

Cas dropped his head to the mattress, pillowing his forehead on his arms and canting his ass higher in invitation.

“Please, alpha,” he groaned. “Please fuck me. I need your cock.”

“There ya go,” Dean growled approvingly. He positioned his cock against Cas soaked hole and shoved his width in deep, exactly as promised, forcing Cas to take all of him to the root in one long, glorious thrust. Cas screamed, instinctively trying to pull his hips away from the brutal intrusion. Dean clutched his hips tight, forcing Cas to hold still has he slammed his cock repeatedly home.

“That’s all you had to do, ask me nicely,” Dean growled over the rhythmic sound of his balls wetly slapping against Cas’ ass. “But instead, you had to be stubborn,”

“Yes,” Cas groaned. “Please, yes. I’m sorry.”

Dean actually laughed, though his hips never slowed their bruising pace. But Cas’ hole had loosened enough to fully embrace Dean’s width and he struggled now to push back into his fucking, trying to meet each thrust. 

“You are many, many things Lover. But sorry is not one of them.”

“Please,” Cas said again, not disputing the statement. Dean knew him, better than anyone ever had. And still he wanted Cas; still he loved him. It was so much more than he’d ever hoped for. He’d call the extra eight inches of alpha cock a bonus. 

“Let me move,” he begged, struggling against Dean’s grip. “I need it. Deeper, please alpha.”

“Any deeper and my cock will trigger your gag reflex,” Dean grunted. Nonetheless, he pulled out, tugging on his hips. Before Cas could protest, Dean manhandled him until he'd flipped him to his back, grabbed his calves and pulled his feet over his head, tilting his hips off the bed, bending him nearly in half.

An instant later and he was shoving his dick back inside Castiel's body, slamming his hips till they were snug against his balls. Cas screamed as the rough intrusion filled him to the brink of his tolerance and past. 

Dean didn’t give him a second to catch his breath before resuming pounding into him, slamming into his ass at a demanding pace. A small part of Cas wondered how the hell the alpha was managing to maintain that pace without tiring, but the rest of him was too busy glorying in the ride. 

Cas reached up, taking hold of his own legs, helping Dean keep him bent over. The move was a particular act of genius on his part as it allowed Dean to let go with one hand and wrap it around Cas’ cock, his hand wet with slick and precum. He jerked Cas off in quick, rapid strokes in jarring counterpoint to his thrusts.

“Please,” Cas moaned, “I need to come. Need to…” 

“Do it,” Dean ordered, his voice completely lost to his alpha. “Come for me, my mate. Let me have it. Now, Cas!”

Castiel screamed, his omega unable to resist the command. And then he was coming, thick ropes of semen pulsing out of his abused cock, oozing around Dean’s relentless grip. And still Dean pounded into him, fucking him clean through his orgasm. 

Cas lost his grip on his legs, collapsing in heap, distantly aware of a surge of pressure in his ass as Dean slammed his knot home, spilling inside Cas and locking them together. And then the world went dark.

By the time Cas came to, Dean had rolled them over so that Cas was on top, his boneless body splayed across his bulkier mate’s. Dean’s hand was gently stroking along his back, warm against the cooling skin.

“One of these days, I’m going to make you beg me,” Cas grumbled hoarsely. His throat hurt. And it wasn’t the only sore part of him. He shifted a little, wincing. Yep, they were still locked.

“I look forward to you trying,” Dean replied, his tone sated and lazy.

Well, that was one way to handle Dean’s feral side, Cas realized in amusement. Fuck it out of him. He’d remember that method in case he needed it later. 

“How long was I out? “ Cas asked. 

Dean shrugged, the movement tugging at where they were tied. Cas grunted at the uncomfortable jostling. 

“It’s been about five minutes,” Dean replied, his voice satisfied, bordering on smug. Castiel let it go, deciding that after that ride, the alpha deserved to be a little pleased with himself. Dean wasn’t the only one mellowed out from an earth-shaking orgasm. Seeing no reason to stay awake, Cas closed his eyes and dosed.

He must have truly fallen asleep because when Cas next opened his eyes he was somewhat cleaned and lying on what had quickly become his side of the bed. And he was alone. 

He cocked his head, hearing soft voices in the other room. Taking a deep breath, he smelled sex, food, and the slightly cloying, unwelcome scent of an alpha not his own. Realizing he was starving, he rose. He took the time to dress, aware that showing up in a lack of clothing would only incense his mate. 

Cas made his way to the kitchen. The two Winchester brothers were both seated at the table, plates of food, a few bottles of beer, and covered dishes spread out across its surface. From what Castiel could make out as he came in, they were discussing safe topics, pack matters, reminiscing about shared memories and the like. Both Alphas appeared calm. This was much better. 

Conversation stopped as walked in, but no one tried to tell him to leave so he took a chair and spooned a heaping helping of pot roast with mashed tubers onto an empty plate. He was starving.

Dean poured him a glass of beer from one of the heavy growlers, raising an eyebrow at the double helping of food Cas was putting down.

“What?” Cas demanded. “I had a rough heat.”

“You seem to be through the worst of it,” Sam began carefully. 

Cas shrugged. Sam would know as well as anyone. He’d partnered with Castiel multiple times over the years. The idea had never bothered him before, but now Cas found himself slightly uneasy at the idea that he’d had sex with an alpha not his own, even in the past. He supposed that was just part of the whole mating thing.

“We have to discuss how we’re going to handle this,” Sam continued. “There’s good reasons claiming during an omega's heat is against our laws.”

Dean stiffened, though he seemed completely in control of himself.

Cas sighed, setting his fork down. “I understand. And I heartily approve of that law.” He looked at his mate. Dean minutely shook his head ‘no’, anticipating what Castiel was about to divulge. Tough.

“What happened was unforgivable,” Cas admitted, looking at Sam. “And if I could undo it, I would.” He ignored his mate’s growl of protest, though he appreciated the reassurance.

Cas looked Sam in the eye, an unusual ability for an omega, but he’d never been normal. “I bit Dean without his consent. And my life should be forfeit. But it’s done, and my death would only traumatize my mate. Similarly, leaving would do no good.” He looked to his mate, seeing the resolution in Dean’s steady gaze. If Cas left, Dean would follow. Selfishly, Cas was relieved. He really didn’t want to leave the Winchester pack. This was his home. 

Sam frowned. “Wait. Am I understanding this correctly? You forced the mating?”

Cas dropped his gaze, not answering.

Sam groaned, dropped his head in his hands. “I’ve never heard of an omega initiating a mating bite on an alpha. Not only that, his Alpha. Only you, Cas. What are we going to do with this mess?”

“Try and touch my mate and I’ll break both your arms,” Dean commented, casually taking a sip from his beer. 

Sam looked up, glaring at his older sibling. “You really think I’d do that?”

Dean shrugged. “Just putting it out there.” 

Castiel looked at Sam. “You don’t seem to be mad at me.”

Sam blinked in surprise. “I’m not. I can tell you feel terrible, but really, the mating itself is the least of my issues. If you hadn’t done some kind of heat driven impulse bite and actually discussed it like a rational adult, Dean would have jumped at the chance to take you as his mate. Everyone knows he’s been pining for you practically since you joined us.”

“Everyone but me, apparently,” Cas replied darkly.

“The issue,” Sam continued, “Is that the one time that you actually go through a heat with Dean, you come out mated, despite having spent years refusing him. It’s going to look bad.”

“Anyone care how it looks can come have a nice talk with me,” Dean said.

“Except we founded this pack on fairness,” Sam replied. “If the Alpha breaks the rules, it opens the floor for others.”

A red glint ghosted in Dean’s eyes at the implied threat. Castiel reached over, running a soothing hand down his mate’s arm. The red hue faded.

Sam stood. “Well, I've heard enough to settle my concerns,” he stated bluntly, grinning. “Congratulations on your mating. And may I add that you are both idiots for waiting for so long. I'll go have a talk with Ellen, she’ll know the best way to make the happy announcement. And then, of course, we need to discuss the mating party.”

“Party?” Dean asked with a scowl.

“You’re the pack’s Alpha, Dean. People will want, and deserve to celebrate.” Dean scowled. Reaching for the food plates, he started spooning himself another helping.

Sam smiled affectionately. Coming around the table he reached out, clapping Dean on the shoulder. “I’m happy for you, big brother. You did good.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Dean muttered, but he reached up, squeezing the hand on his shoulder. “Thanks. It means a lot.”

Sam glanced over the table. “Cas, would you mind helping me run some supplies to my place while my brother stuffs his face?”

Castiel hastily rose to his feet. “Of course.”

Dean growled, his mouth stuffed with pot roast.

Sam narrowed his eyes and growled right back. “Chill. I have no intention of trying to poach and you know it.”

Cas glanced coolly at his mate, daring the Alpha to try and tell him he wasn’t allowed to walk out the door with Sam. Exceptions could be made when heat and hormones were in the air, but this was different. This was about setting a precedent. 

Dean muttered darkly to himself and reached for the covered plate of pie. Satisfied that they’d gone through their first understanding as a mated pair, Castiel followed Sam out the door.

“I’m sorry for causing so much trouble,” Castiel began, only to be interrupted when Sam wrapped his tree trunk arms around him in a massive bear hug. 

“Thank you,” he muttered, eventually letting go. Cas took a deep breath of air now that his lungs were no longer compressed.

Sam sighed. “Dean, he’s holding on. He always has. He’s so strong. But, what Dad did to him, what he had to become to keep up all safe…” Sam rubbed at an eye. 

“Every time he goes into a fight I wonder if this is the last time I’ll see him, my brother, again. Or will he become a monster in truth, someone that I have to hunt down before he becomes something he’d never want to be.”

Sam shook his head to clear it of the untenable thoughts. “I saw what you did in there. You were able to calm his inner Hunter with just a touch. And your bond has only just begun to form. Cas, there is a very real chance you saved his life with this mating.”

Sam didn’t add, ‘and mine,’ but he might as well have. Castiel knew the brothers well enough to understand that something vital in Sam would die the day his brother did. Dean was so dangerously damaged, it was easy to overlook that Sam was broken as well. 

Castiel devoutly hoped this loner lady alpha Sam cared so deeply for would finally come in from the wild. Sam deserved whatever measure of happiness he could find in this world. Both siblings did. 

“I don’t know exactly how much influence I have on him,” Cas told Sam honestly. “But I know that I love him. And I know, and can almost believe, that he loves me too.”

Sam smiled at that, appreciating the distinction. “You’ll get there. It just takes time.” He reached down and readily picked up the supplies on the porch with one arm, clearly not needing Cas’ help at all to carry things. 

Sam paused. “For the record, you don’t really understand just how much influence you have on Dean. And him on you, for that matter. Things may get a tad sticky between you two, but I’m sure you’ll work it all out together.”

Winking, Sam turned and strode away, disappearing around the corner of his home.

Shaking his head, Cas turned to go back inside. No doubt his moody mate would have a fit that Cas smelled like another alpha and would want to mark him as his, rub his own scent all over Cas’s body. Blinking at the thought, Castiel hastily made his way back to his home. 

And his Mate.


	9. The Roadhouse; a Harvellian Prequel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ellen Harvelle has the ruined remains of a roadhouse, a few dozen broken packmates, one very spry beta daughter, and not much else. Well, that and some freaking amazing moonshine. The weary Alpha has one play left to save what's left of her pack. 
> 
> *This is the tale of how the Harvelles joined the Winchesters. Takes place about 2 years after John Winchester's death, and 4 years before a certain pit fight.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -I wrote two new chapters, a prequel and an epilogue. One of them is smutty angst, the other a good PG story with a plot and everything. This one is the latter.

Soot-filled clouds of smoke danced around the barren ground, a grisly accent to the charred corpses of vehicles, the crates, and well, corpses. A dry wind blew through, filling the air with cloying ashes. 

The Roadhouse, once home to her family and any packmates that needed a place to eat and crash, was burned nearly to rubble; the structural beams all that remained. Given the level of char, they wouldn’t be long for the world, either. 

Nonetheless, folk gamely climbed through the remains, covered head to toe in thick protective garb, their faces covered in hankies in an attempt to keep their lungs clear of the grainy smoke, hoping to find enough pieces of packmates to identify who was in the wreckage and salvaging anything worth keeping or selling. 

The Harvelle pack had never been rich, living season to season for the most part. What little stores they had managed to save up for the year were either raided or burned beyond recognition.

A shudder in the northwest quadrant of the burnt out structure caused the entire upper support beams to rumble ominously. That was enough; Ellen was calling it.

“That’s it! No point in finding the dead if it costs us the living. Everyone get on outta there.” The salvage efforts paused, three of the five people obediently turning and carefully making their way out. The remaining two gave her matching mutinous stares.

“Was I in any way unclear, or do you both need your ears boxed for ya?” She demanded, letting her Alpha show through her eyes. She had no time for this crap.

The two cousins glanced at each other, then dropped their gazes and began making their way out. Ellen didn’t hold it against them; she understood their resistance all too well. The elder of the pair’s sister had been badly injured in their last skirmish with raiders. They needed every penny they could find to pay the medics that were overseeing her care.

But they wouldn’t be any good to her injured or dead, and there was nothing of value left in that pile of burnt wood and rebar; it was best left to the ghosts. 

The sound of a four-wheeler roaring up the road caused her to turn east, her hand automatically going to the Peacemaker on her right hip though she didn’t draw the hefty gun. 

They had only the barest of security left to them, but those of the Harvelle pack were roughnecks by trade and nature; a handful of the salty old fighters was worth three of most anyone else. Whoever was coming in hot would not have made it this far if they weren’t welcome.

The modified four-wheeler rolled to a sharp halt a few feet from her. Cutting the engine, a slim blonde beta female hopped athletically out of the driver’s side. She wore a long blade in a waist sheath on her left hip, a slightly battered Ruger on the other, and a sawed off shotgun at her back. 

“Mom!” she called, bounding up for a hug, burying her head in Ellen’s neck.

Ellen’s arms wrapped around daughter and the last living member of her family. The teenager shook a little, residual adrenaline and emotions wracking her slim frame.

“Hey, Jo. I got you. It’s okay, baby. I promise ya, it’s all gonna be okay.” Ellen wasn’t sure how in hell she was going to keep that promise, but she would find a way. 

Jo sniffed, reluctantly pulling back so she could look her mother and Alpha in the eye. She roughly wiped one arm across her eyes, swiping at the ashy tears.

“Sorry, mom. The raiders found the hidden caches down by the cave stream. It’s gone. Everything. The last of the whiskey, the weapons, the food stores. Even the last of the medical supplies was taken.”

Ellen rocked back on her heels, attempting to make sense of the news. “But Isaac and Tamera were stationed there. They’d never abandon their post.”

“They didn’t,” Ellen agreed, ducking her head. “They’re both dead. Wandell too. And I found what was left of Martin up on the ridge. They didn’t go quietly. We found over a dozen bodies around there.”

Ellen cursed. Her best Hunters, gone. They’d all been spinsters, at least. So she didn’t have more pups to deal with. She had enough of that already. Ellen glanced over at the hastily erected tent where the pack’s children were holed up; two thirds of them with at least one dead parent, the rest orphans. What the hell was she going to do?

Jo shook herself, pulling away and reclaiming her bearing. “Anything left from the Roadhouse?”

“A bit,” Ellen replied with a sigh. “Plus side, looks like Ash is gonna pull through. Touch and go, still, but he’s hanging in there.”

“I’ll take it,” Jo replied fervently. “Any good news is a win right now. Ill just go wash up and go check on him. See if anyone in the medical tent needs help.” 

She gave her mother another quick hug, and if it felt a little desperate, she was entitled. Seventeen was far too young to bear the responsibilities she’d had to take on. 

Jo walked away, the toll of the last few weeks weighing heavily in the way she carried herself, normally so strong backed and proud. She’d carry on; she was her father’s pup. 

Ellen pulled out her flask, taking a long drink. The Roadhouse had been a stopping point for locals and travelers for the better part of thirty years. A place to wash the dust off, have a meal and a drink or three, maybe do a little discreet business if one were so inclined. Chat up old acquaintances, catch up on rumors, and maybe spread one or two. 

Her parents, as rough and rugged a pair as you’d ever met had started the place, bringing in a few hard cases that had a mind to settle down. They’d raised Ellen to run it, teaching her all the things a young, tough Alpha needed. And she’d done a good job of it, too. 

Ellen’s mate had loved the place as much as she did, Mother Moon shine on him. He’d given her a daughter as tough her mother but caring like her dad. And now it was gone. This was the only life Jo had ever known, gone completely to rubble. There was nothing left to build on, and certainly no money for supplies. 

She sighed. Her pack had never been big, a dozen or so families that lived around here and a handful of strays. Traders mostly, helping run the Roadhouse and keep it supplied. Plus another dozen or so permanent loaners quick with a gun and a willingness to use it. It had always been enough. 

The bigger packs around here left the Roadhouse alone; it suited them to have such a place around. Most could be counted to throw in a few extra supplies here and there during dry spells. 

The place would be missed. But ‘missed’ didn’t put food in empty bellies.  
\-----------

The sound of a truck engine woke Ellen late in the night, the pack whistles of alert warning her it was a friendly. Ellen threw on her coat against the evening chill and stepped out of her tent, listening as the vehicle approached.

It came to a stop just in front of the husk of Roadhouse. Asa Fox, stumbled out. He was a traveler, gone more often than not, but he still called her pack home. The big alpha was limping badly, a rough dressing soaked through on his left thigh. The moonlight wasn’t bright enough for Ellen to tell much, but she could smell fresh blood, and lots of it.

Asa limped around the jeep, pulling a woman wrapped in a blanket out one side. “She’s injured. Hit by something big. Right arm is broken as well as some ribs, I think. She’s been out in the woods for a while, got some open wounds that smell infected. “

Recognizing the woman as one of her regulars, Ellen gestured for her people to come and take her off Asa’s hands. The medic tried to help Asa too, but the stubborn mule of a man waved her off.

“In a minute. I need to speak with the Alpha,” he told the young medic frantically trying to attend to his leg wound.

Ellen walked over, before the alpha hunter could toddle her way.

“Ellen,” Asa greeted. “I found her by accident,” he reported, gesturing and the unconscious woman being carried into the medic’s tent. “She was alone on the side of the road, knife injury.” He winced slightly, shifting his weight to his good leg. 

“I was on my way to warn you. Marauders to the south. Lots of them.” Asa hesitated. “They’re Black Eyes.”

Ellen choked back a breath. The Black Eyes were ruthless. They’d started raiding her territory a few years ago, stealing supplies, doing minor damage and ducking out. She’d thought burning the Roadhouse reeked of them. But she’d had no proof.

Not that it mattered. She had no chance against those beasts. They’d kill every one they didn’t have a use for, the alphas, the kids. They’d steal the omegas and use ‘em up. She couldn’t stop them. They were fierce. No one would come to her aid against them, not that she had money or goods to pay for fighters.

“Thank you, Asa. Now get yourself over to the medical tent before you pass out.”

He smiled a weak, encouraging smile that was mostly grimace, and swung an arm over the medic’s shoulder, allowing the pretty omega to assist him back towards the tent. He may or may not have leaned into her a tad bit more than completely necessary.

Satisfied that her friend and one of the few remaining fighters left to her was going to be okay, Ellen turned back, looking into the distant south. They had a few vehicles. Not enough for everyone to ride, though. Even if they left everything behind. And they’d never be fast enough on foot. Running wouldn’t work. Fighting was death. 

Ellen glanced over to where Jo crouched by the kid’s tent, idly flipping her dagger. That blade was the last memory the girl had of her father. Ellen’s mate had always been handy with a blade. Not that it did him any good in the end. 

She watched the shiny blade shift end over end in Jo’s capable hands, the moonlight glinting off the shiny blade. There was one rock left that she hadn’t turned yet. One she’d vowed never to so much as think of. And at its best it was one hell of a Hail Mary. But she was out of options.  
\--------------------------

Two days and one long jeep trip later, Ellen parked at a dilapidated wooden outpost. The rickety stand stood on uncertain legs, a good eight feet up. Of course, the fragile state was a ruse. Hidden below the weathered and creaky wood, solid metal beams held the structure solidly above ground. A single guard watched her warily from his spot above. 

Ellen waved. He nodded evenly back. 

She’d made this journey alone, much to her pack’s consternation and her daughter’s disapproval. But Jo was needed back home to keep an eye on things, and Ellen didn’t want to take her on what would potentially be a suicide run. If she was lucky. It was no small thing for a pack Alpha to walk unannounced into another pack’s territory unannounced.

Ellen stepped out of the jeep, leaning casually against the hood. Reaching into a coat pocket she pulled a weathered flask and took a hearty swallow. Partially to calm her nerves, sure, but mostly in an attempt to wash the bad taste out of this whole thing from her mouth. 

The sounds of a car engine coming up the road had her packing away the flask and standing straight. That was quick. She’d expected to be made to wait a while for proprieties sake.

A retrofitted four-wheeler turned out from a small path she hadn’t noticed buried among the tall grass. It was a clever bit of illusion, and highly effective. Curiously, she wondered how many sets of eyes watched her from that tall grass, guns ready. Not that it mattered.

The approaching vehicle held two people, both large men. It came to a stop a few feet away, it’s occupants hopping nimbly out and striding casually towards her. Ellen stared up, and up. Great Moon they were massive.

The taller of the two strode right up to her, and before she could even gather some form of defense, muscular arms came around her, pulling her in to a tight embrace.

“Ellen Harvelle!” The large male greeted warmly. Recognition dawned and she hugged firmly back.

“Sam Winchester? What in the right hell have they been feeding you?”

She remembered Sam as this tiny, scrawny little boy with sweet eyes, caring. Gentle for an alpha. The man before her had to be nearing six and a half feet tall, with wide shoulders and packing a good acre of muscle. His hair hung down around his ears, softening his look a bit, but his eyes told a different story. Burning intelligence, curiosity, alert and wary, his Alpha gaze was one of the most powerful she’d experienced. And, nearly buried, a touch of the boy’s gentle caring. 

And she dared to hope. 

Ellen took a step back and looked at the only slightly shorter of the two. Dean Winchester. He’d also started out a caring child like his brother, very protective even as a boy, a testament to the hidden Hunter in his genetics that had yet to manifest. If his eyes hadn’t stayed that same, stunning shade of hazel green she remembered, Ellen doubted she’d have recognized him.

“Dean,” she greeted, smiling. Whatever he was now, she still harbored some affection for the boy she’d once known.

“Ellen,” he replied. He graced her with a flirty, teasing smile that lit up a stunning face. She was suddenly very glad she’d left Jo back at camp. The poor girl wouldn’t have stood a chance. 

Despite the warm greeting, he didn’t go in for a hug the way Sam had, keeping a few feet between them. She looked into his eyes, hiding a flinch at the darkness lurking behind that beautiful gaze. A faint sheen rolled over his eyes, feral and wild, a promise of impending violence, swift and without warning.

Ellen went very, very still.

“Dean,” Sam called gently, placing a gentle hand on his brother’s shoulder. Bold of him. Ellen wouldn’t have come near the rabid Alpha so close to violence. 

Dean blinked, and in an astonishing display of will, buried the monster as if it had never been. Ellen stared. What she'd just seen was impossible. Feral Hunter alphas were beasts; living weapons. Let off the chain and pointed at an enemy with no expectation of survivors. She’d never heard of any with this degree of control over their inner monster.

Sadness overwhelmed fear. “What under the Moonlight happened to you, boy?” She asked, stepping forward and placing a hand on his cheek. Dean leaned in, arms coming around her as he finally claimed a hug of his own. 

He leaned back, his smile a little more crooked and a lot more genuine. “Life,” he replied with a shrug. She realized that Dean knew exactly what he was, and accepted it. It nearly broke her heart.

Ellen glanced over at Sam, catching a flash of sad affection as he looked at his older brother. He knew what Dean had grown into as well. And what Sam so clearly had not. She wasn’t sure which was worse. 

John Winchester, I hope you rot for what you did to your sons, Ellen thought darkly.

“Welcome to Winchester territory, Alpha Harvelle,” Sam began, observing the formalities. “If you want to come into our territory, we promise you safe passage for the duration of your visit. But we can talk here if you’d rather.” 

“Safe passage in and out?” She clarified.

“Promise,” Dean replied. “We’ll even send an escort with you back to the edge of your territory, if you want.” He didn’t add, ‘since you were dumb enough to travel alone,’ but his implication was loud and clear.

Ellen decided to let it go. Dean wasn’t completely wrong. “Alright, sure. I’d love to see what you boys have done to the place.”

“Alright, hop in,” Sam replied. “The guards will make sure your car stays safe.”

Guards? She’d only seen the one in the tower. She’d assumed there were others, of course, but was curious how many. 

She climbed into car besides Dean when he slid behind the wheel, Sam in back. “So, how many eyes you got in that grass?” She asked casually.

Dean grinned. “Sixteen.” 

Eight guards just for her. How many fighting grade packmates did the Winchesters have that they could so easily spare that many bodies?

They wound their way through the underbrush, the hidden path zigzagging in a clever maze. Ellen was impressed. One could always burn through the grass, of course, but they’d be sitting ducks while they did it. 

Without warning, the grass gave way to a massive open area, dotted with small houses in no particular pattern. The plateau gave way to hills that disappeared in the distance, leading to a boulder spotted area to the south side, and a dark forest line to the north. 

Dean parked the jeep in front of one of the houses, tossing the keys to a waiting packmate as he climbed out. Sam and Ellen both followed.

“This is pack central,” Sam told her. “The outer ring of homes are private residences, but the more central ones are shared resources. Dinner hall, weapons storage, supplies, motor pool, et cetera,” he explained, though he didn’t point out which was which.

Dean pounded up the steps one of the larger cabins that smelled of something delicious. “Yo! Pack me up three meals to go would, ya?” 

“Sure thing, Dean,” a voice called back brightly. 

Hearing grunting and sounds of a fight, Ellen turned and followed the sound, automatically planning on putting out a fire, breaking only when she remembered it wasn’t her place.

But what she saw wasn’t some beta blockheads kicking a fuss. A dozen folk of all ages, sexes, and yes, apparently types, were sparring in an organized class.

A cheerful female with bright red hair was leading the class. Ellen watched as she easily took down a large male she’d been demonstrating on. The alpha didn’t appear to mind kissing dirt, instead asking to be shown again so he could try it. 

“Everyone learns basic fighting,” Sam said coming to her side, three packed meals in his arms. He leaned down and sniffed. “There appears to be an entire pie in here,” he reported to his brother. 

Dean smiled. “That’s because Anna likes me and wants me to be happy.” 

“It’s because you’re banging her,” Sam retorted, rolling his eyes.

“Then I must be doing a decent job of it,” Dean retorted, leaning for his own sniff. “Apple with extra cinnamon. My favorite.” 

“Is that a heat bribe?” Ellen asked curiously.

“Nah, Anna’s a beta. My brother is just a giant whore,” Sam replied casually, leading them out of the main area and up a hill towards wear a single pair of larger cabins were built at the border of the tree line.

“I resemble that remark,” Dean answered, unconcerned. “It’s not my fault I got the goods and am generous enough to share ‘em with the world.”

“A whore with delusions and no sense of shame,” Sam amended. 

Ellen chuckled. The whole area seemed so damn...healthy. No hollow eyes, no fear. Folk eyed her curiously, sure, but trusted their Alphas in letting her in.

“Which of you boys are running this show, anyway?” Ellen asked. 

For the life of her she couldn’t tell. By right, it should be Dean as the oldest and toughest. Sam was clearly a fighter, but even he couldn’t withstand an alpha Hunter’s Rages. 

“We co-rule,” Sam replied easily. “Equal power. It’s abnormal, I know. But it works for us.”

“Not that folk don’t go to Sammy here when they think they have a better chance of getting something they want,” Dean replied blandly. “He’s the bleeding heart of the two of us, after all.”

She glanced at Sam, every bit the hard eyed Alpha. Anyone who mistook his caring nature as softness was very, very mistaken. Sam was alpha through and through. He was just a bit subtler than his brother. She had a feeling the brothers played up their roles with deliberately. 

They crested the hill and walked around back. A log framed fire pit was already laid out and ready for flame.

Ellen took a seat, accepting the covered meal Sam handed her. It was still steaming. Venison steak, mashed tubers, and a generous chunk of thick bread. Delicious.

“So,” Dean began, digging into his food with a barbarian’s decorum. Sam watched his brother’s ill manners with resigned acceptance. “What’s up?” 

“Why are you here, Ellen? Not that we aren’t happy to see you, but it’s been a good fifteen years,” Sam added.

Ellen sighed. “Yeah, and most like it’d be another fifteen if I weren’t desperate. Not that I dislike you pair, but there’s some bad blood between me n’ your Dad.”

“Get in line,” Sam replied, old anger in his eyes. “Anyway, he’s dead and burned. Years ago.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Ellen replied honestly. 

For all that she’d never forgiven John, he’d had to raise two boys alone and keep his small pack of misfits alive in some very difficult times. 

Dean shrugged. “Yeah, well. Thanks. Tell us about the ‘desperate’ part.”

Ellen played with her bread. “My pack was never super wealthy. The Roadhouse was all we had. But raiders targeted us last season, and they never really stopped coming. Lately it’s been bad.”

“How bad?” Sam asked.

“They burned down the Roadhouse. Stole what little stores we managed to stockpile. 2/3 of my people are dead. Most the rest are omegas, kids, and injured. I just got word a big group of marauders are headed our way. We got no chance of surviving.”

“That definitely counts as ‘bad,” Dean agreed around a mouthful of food.

“Are you asking for help?” Sam asked carefully.

“No, it’s way too late for that. There’s nothing left to save. I’m here to ask you to take what’s left of my people in. Claim ‘em as yours. Everyone knows Winchester’s protect their own.” 

Ellen steadily met their matching gazes. “We got almost nothing to offer. Hardly any able-bodied fighters, the kids got one parent left or none at all. Most the omegas lost a mate, they aren’t doing well. A few trucks, some weapons. But there is something of value I can offer.”

Reaching into her pocket she pulled her flask, offering it to Dean. Curious, the Alpha sniffed at the drink and took a swig, eyes widening in appreciation.

“That it. The only thing my pack has of value. No bottles, those are long raided. But I got the recipe.” She tapped her head. “I’ll write it all out to the last detail. I know it don’t sound like much, but that hooch kept us afloat for years. It ain’t nothing.”

Dean passed the flask to Sam. He took a deep gulp, eyes thoughtful. Sam glanced over at his brother, the two apparently having an entire conversation wordlessly.

“We need to discuss this privately,” Sam told her, handing the flask back. “Why don’t you stay here, have some pie?”

Ellen nodded. “Sure thing.”

The two men rose, disappearing into the woods. Ellen stared into the fire for a bit, before reaching for the pie. Damn it was good.

The brothers were gone for a good hour before they returned, the sun just beginning its journey west. They sat back down, snagging slices of pie along the way. Both of them were wearing game faces, revealing nothing. 

“Here’s the thing,” Dean began. “The woods give us what we need, though we try and not milk it too heavily. But we don’t have much in the way of trade. A lot of what we got comes from pit fighting in the border towns.”

“For the record, I’m not a fan,” Sam replied, eyeing his brother. “It’s not good for you.” 

Dean shrugged, blowing off Sam’s concern.

“Sometimes we get lucky, raiders make the bad decision to try and make a play on us.” Dean grinned. “Easy supplies right there.” 

“What my brother is trying to say, is that we could use a marketable trade commodity,” Sam continued. He eyed the pocket her flask was in. “Your moonshine is a legend unto itself.”

Ellen grinned faintly. They weren’t wrong. 

Dean shifted on his log. “Here’s the deal. You tell us everything you know, to the last detail, on that hooch. And we’ll bring your pack in. But not as Harvelles. We can’t afford the infighting. If we take them, they join us. One pack.” 

“We’re fair, “ Sam promised. “And as you said, we look after our own.” 

Ellen nodded, careful to hide her relief. She’d already gotten nearly everything she wanted, but there was no reason to show her hand. This was a negotiation, after all. And she had yet to discuss the most important part.

“I have a grown daughter. She’s a beta and fine fighter. I know she’s the Alpha’s kid, and understand that it may make for difficulties with integration of my pack into yours, but she’s part of the deal. It ain’t negotiable.”

Sam shrugged. “Not a problem.” 

“No selling off my omegas,” Ellen added. Not that she thought the brothers capable of that, but she had to get it out in the open.

“Clearly you’ve not spent time among our pack,” Dean said, grinning faintly. “They’d never allow that kind of crap. And we’d lose a couple of solid ring fighters if we tried.”

“You fight your omegas?” Ellen asked, horrified.

“We have a couple of hard cases,” Sam replied with a sigh. “I can’t stop them. Believe me, I’ve tried. But they just challenge whoever we pick to put in and they kick their asses first.”

Dean grinned like a proud papa. “Our folk our tough.”

Ellen grinned at that, quickly sobering as she brought up the last major issue. “One thing you boys should know. The invaders? They were Black Eyes. And there’s a whole lot more headed towards my territory.”

Dean’s gaze brightened at her warning, a haunting sheen skittering across his retinas. “Is that a promise?” He asked eagerly.

Sam sighed, turning a troubled gaze on his bloodthirsty brother. “Don’t worry. We can handle anything they try to send our way. If they even try. We have a certain reputation.” 

Ellen would have argued the matter if she didn’t already know that the invaders were taking days out of their travels to skirt Winchester territory. Sam’s confidence seemed well founded.

“Alright, then.” Ellen told the brothers. “Sounds like we have a deal. Got a pen? Brewing hooch may sound simple in theory, but doing it right can get complicated. This is gonna take me a while.”

“Hold up a second,” Dean raised a slightly sticky hand up. “We haven’t discussed your place in this.”

“Trying to throw me in with the pack will only foster dissonance,” Ellen told them bluntly. “I get that. Driving me off won’t work, either. Not really. Folk will always know I’m out there somewhere. It’s okay, I knew how this would go from the start.” 

One life for her entire pack. It was more than fair. And Ellen would give her own life ten times over if it meant she wouldn’t have to watch her daughter die.

Sam raised an eyebrow. “So you accept whatever fate we decide for you, then?” 

Ellen nodded firmly. “Yeah, I do. Don’t fret; I won’t put up a fight.” 

Dean stood; wiping his hands clean of pie crumbs. “Okay, then. Let’s make it official. Why don’t you go with Sam to his house, he’s got an adorable little office set up.” Sam glared at his brother, gracing him with a very specific finger.

Ellen followed Sam across the way to the other identical house. It was surprisingly spacious, neat and quite tidy for a single alpha male. Dean was right about one thing; Sam did have a nice writing area set up. 

Ellen took a seat at the heavy, hand carved desk, taking time to write every part of the recipe, every variety, every variable her mind could conjure up. This moonshine was her legacy; it was all she had to leave behind for her people. For her daughter.

It took Ellen the better part of an hour before she was satisfied that she’d written down everything she could think of. She needed to make arrangements to get sufficient vehicles to take back with her to load her people and bring them to her new home. And a heavily armed escort wouldn’t exactly hurt. 

She mentioned it to Sam as they left the house. He smiled at her, readily agreeing to all her requests as if it was already a done deal. Perhaps it was; her people were his now. 

When they came out, they weren’t alone. A dozen or so folk ringed the blazing fire, the flames lighting up the quickly darkening evening. Dean stood among them, passing around the one bottle remaining of her moonshine left, clearly purloined from her jeep. Not that it mattered, she reminded herself; the bottle, like the jeep, was his now.

“Hey,” Dean barked, seeing their emergence. He strode over, taking his place alongside Sam. “Everyone shut up and listen.” 

Silence fell, and to a person they gazed at the trio of Alphas. “You lot are here to hear what we have to say and pass the word to your assigned teams. So pay freaking attention.”

Sam stepped slightly forward. “By now you’ve all heard we’re hosting a rival Alpha. This is Ellen Harvelle, Alpha of the Harvelle pack. They ran the old Roadhouse.”

“Ran, as in past tense?” Someone called out.

“That’s exactly what I mean,” Sam replied evenly. “It’s been burnt down by rogues. The majority of her pack was taken out. Most of those capable of providing protection are dead or wounded.” 

Murmurs of anger briefly filled the group. “Dean and I talked the matter over. We’re adopting what’s left of her people into the Winchester pack.” 

More unhappy grumbles filled the air, louder this time, some in support, but a great many others in disagreement, voicing complaining about lack of supplies and more mouths to feed.

Dean growled, a deep, ominous rumble. All voices in the clearing instantly went silent. The Alpha glared at his people, a dangerous glint shimmering across his retinas. Several of the closest pack members took a few wary steps back.

“I’m sorry. Did we give you the mistaken impression that you had a say in this decision? In case you all forgot, this pack ain’t a democracy. Anyone who disapproves step on up and explain to me the error of my ways.” A faint red glow backlit his usual green. No one took him up on his offer.

“What about the Alpha?” Some daring soul called out. “We can’t just mix her in with our people. We’d always be divided.” Several of his neighbors nodded agreement while simultaneously keeping a wary eye on their more homicidal Alpha.

“You’re right,” Sam agreed calmly. “Dean and I talked about that.” He sighed. “We’ve come to a decision. There’s really only one thing to do; some of you may not like it, but this is how it’s going to be.”

He narrowed his gaze, waiting as those around him ducked their heads, averting gazes in deference to their Alpha. “The death of our father left a hole in this pack, one my brother and I have both strived to fill.” Lots of voices called out at that, quick to call support to their Alpha pair. 

“We got the dumb brawn covered,” Dean told them, grinning as he jerked a thumb in his oversized brother’s direction. Sam grinned, shaking his head. “And I think we call all agree I’m the brains of this outfit.” 

Open chuckles at that. Anyone who’d had more than a passing conversation with Dean knew the alpha was hardly the dumb thug he so often played at, but Sam was a legitimate genius.

Sam looked over the crowd. “Thank you for the support. It means a lot. But we are both very young. Too young, really, to be running such a large, quickly growing pack. We’re doing the best we can.” Strong murmurs of encouragement answered his statement.

“But the truth is that we know very little about actually running a pack, particularly one as full of such diverse personalities as ours.” Grins at that. Everyone knew the Winchesters were outliers. After a moment, Sam continued. “Our father was always the voice of experience, his a kind of wisdom that only comes with age and time.”

Dean glanced briefly over at Ellen, seeing the first gleam of shocked understanding fill the Alpha female’s face. He flashed her a cocky grin before taking up the narrative. 

Dean raised his voice, the deep tones resounding through the clearing. “It’s decided. For the good of the pack, the Winchester Alpha Duo is officially becoming a Triumvirate." 

"Everyone, say ‘hi’ to your new Alpha.”


End file.
